The shade of the Argonaths
by Stormcircle
Summary: NB: This is not your everyday LOTR fanfic. It takes place about 2000 years after the demise of Sauron, and Middle Earth has changed beyond recognition. At the place where the Argonath statues still stand lies now the metropolis of Sarmaltar housing 11 million of people. One of them is the historian and archeologist Narheda, working on her thesis...
1. Nerve Centre

_NB: This is not your everyday LOTR fanfic. It takes place about 2000 years after the demise of Sauron, and Middle Earth has changed beyond recognition. At the place where the Argonath statues still stand lies now the metropolis of Sarmaltar housing 11 million of people. One of them is the historian and archeologist Narheda, working on her thesis..._

_Re-posting this at my new account because my old one got trolled and I had to delete it._

**1.****Nerve Centre **

The rain was wetting the large train windows like so many rolling tears and distorting the sight of the city outside, turning all the lamps and lights into a multi coloured limbo of glittering confetti as the darkness of the dusk was falling and the maglev train made its way through the Burbs towards the Centrarea. Leaning slightly in the curves, the sleek vehicle was making almost 200 kph on the longest runs, however as closer it got to the Centrarea the more frequent the station stops became and the slower the train was running. The station stops also became lengthier as more and more people were embarking and disembarking.

That slowing down of the ride made Narheda feel as if the knot of tension was getting heavier in her belly, weighting down towards the back of her spine and making it harder for her to think more logically. She had no idea why the professor Sinadaris had called her to his office at this irregular time a day. Two hours after sunset, that was when most people were at home with their families, having dinner or watching the broadcast.

That was what she wanted to do as well, she was hungry and tired and had no desire at all to return to the University for another run, and just to see Sinadaris. Why couldn't that wait tomorrow? she thought as the train started to reverse for the Terpandur station, where she was getting off. It was another weekday tomorrow and neither she nor Sinadaris ought to have such a fully booked calendar that they couldn't squeeze in a meeting together, she thought as she stood from her seat, bracing herself for the force of the descending speed. Because she really wished she could be home with Darik now and just snuggle up and have a nice time. Besides, she was hungry.

The train braked into the station, the platform speeding by slower and slower until the train came to a halt and the doors wheezed open. By then Narheda was already standing just by the doors, and she slipped easily outside, while folding up the hood of her rubber cloak to protect herself from the rain. Then she hasted down the platform, smoothly avoiding running into other commuters and what they might bring with them when it came to bags, pets, prams, trolleyettes, quickpedes and other goods. Within seconds she was by the escalators and could begin her descent to ground level. At the same time she saw the train leave the platform, its merrily bright red and yellow colours contrasting to the gray-scale of most other object around save for the saturated add boards plastering the station walls.

Exiting through the automatic doors of the station, Narheda turned left and began heading towards the university campus, passing closed down warehouses covered in graffiti. Most people tended to ride one station more, getting off by the very station named University of Sarmaltar, but Narheda had found that it was actually a shortcut getting off already at Terpandur and then take one of the back entrances to the campus and that way walking up the low hill to the Institution of History and Archeology, where she did most of her work. That little maneuver generally saved her between five and ten minutes a day. Miniscule in the general swing of things, one might think, but five minutes a day meant 25 minutes a week, 1 hours and 20 minutes a month and about 21 hours a year, that was almost a day! A day to use for better things than commuting to and from work. Doing actual work perhaps.

When she reached the top of the hill and found herself outside the doomed building in pale-green sandstone which housed her institution, she usually stopped to admire the rolling hills of the campus area and all its institution buildings and other structures, displaying all the architectural styles of Grand Gondor, from the toppy tepas of Norindor to the low and airy abodes of Eff Taar. The greenery, the statues and fountains and most of all the people moving about, students, teachers, researchers, administrative personnel, janitors, visitors, security guards and all the rest there was. The sight of this Nerve Centre of Sarmaltar usually picked her up and made her happy to be a part of it, to drink in and partake in its bustling energies, being a part of this social body which was the University of Sarmaltar.

However today Narheda couldn't care less. Today the energies of this place were blocked by another nerve centre, the one within her body. A nerve centre jumpy by the worries created by the professor's sudden call, telling her to make it in to the university at the given time. What could be waiting her? Besides it was raining too much to really being able to enjoy the view. Darting in beneath the pillars, Narheda marched up to the great set of double doors and produced the key card, which she pulled through the slot while entering her personal five digit security code. Those things needed when wanting to enter any uni building after regular working hours.

A silent buzz was heard, followed by a clicking sound, then a small led turned from orange to blue, indicating that the lock had switched open. Narheda pushed the door open and entered a hallway where the automatic light had switched on when she had unlocked the door. The tubes were still flickering slightly as if they were newly awakened beings. Another night time feature. During regular hours the lights weres always on, however often dimmed to match the amount of light streaming in trough the high windows on each side of the entrance.

In front of her the large two story lobby opened up, with the reception desk to her left, unmanned this time of day. There were corridors running off to the left and to the right, slightly shaggy-looking sofa lounges groped about, separated by man-high plants in large pots and in front of her a set of double staircases were arching themselves upwards, and between those, another set of double doors, this one leading into the auditorium. One of them was slightly open and Narheda could hear the faint, humming sound of a cleaning vaacumer at work. The cleaning personnel were always at work when no one else was. Nobody but her – and apparently professor Sinadaris, up in his office on the first floor. Taking the staircase to her left, Narheda bit back her anxiety as she started up towards the professor's office.

Damn, she hoped it wasn't too bad news. That it wasn't one of her students having misbehaved in one way or another, like falsifying test results or cheating during an exam. Or if Elrada... No, she couldn't think like that. Nothing could have happened to Elrada. Because then the professor would have come home to her, wouldn't he? And brought a Soulhealer as well. Someone to talk to in case of distress. But who said there wouldn't be a Soulheaker at... What was now the university policy in case of an event when a relative was involved in...? Narheda couldn't recall, when she thought of it.

No, no, no, she scolded herself. Narheda, don't think like that! Your sister is fine! All is fine, and when you leave here later tonight, you're going to laugh at your earlier worries! Perhaps the old man just wants a friendly chat, some advices.

As she entered the second floor, the movement detectors switched on the light in this hall as well and Narheda turned left, gazing down the corridor towards the small slit of brighter light she saw emitting from a slightly open door. Professor Sinadaris' office was that. She stopped however before heading off towards it, and wormed out of her jacket, hanging it on one of the many pegs lining the wall just opposite of the staircase. Now all of the pegs save two were empty, and she wondered who else, beside her superior might be working late tonight. Shrugging it off she started off towards the professor's office.

While nearing the open door, Narheda checked her necklace-watch, it showed two minutes to the full hour. Perfect timing. Stopping just outside the door, she tapped gently on the door frame with two of her fingers and was rewarded with a gentle, however slightly hesitant reply.  
"Come in!" professor Sinadaris' somewhat graveled tenor greeted her and she pulled the door open, slipping inside before closing it silently behind her.

While doing that, she faced her superior. The professor Sinadaris was sitting behind his desk, slightly leant back in his high-backed office chair, hands folded in front of himself upon the immaculate desk, where not a single paper wasn't aligned exactly horizontally or vertically with the edges of the furniture. Pens were color-coordinated in a set in front of him and the desk infomate was switched off, its keyboard folded up against the darkened monitor. And the professor himself, he looked the way he always had, from the day Narheda first had met him more than a decade ago as a young student. Same kind of ochre coloured jacket over a dark blue tunic with a moderate decoration of silver details around the edges and down the front.

Al right, he might have become a bit plumper and balder over the years, but it went so slowly that you failed to notice it if you tended to run into him on a more or less day to day basis. Sinadaris was pale skinned like all of Northern origin, his eyes were so light blue they were almost gray beneath the bushy brows and he had thin lips beneath a prominently hooked nose, and like most scholars he shaved his beard completely. Most of the time his mouth were pulled upwards in a gentle and jovial smile, however today his expression appeared more serious, confirming Narheda's suspicion that something was not exactly right.

"Good evening, Narheda, Have a seat," he held out a hand, and complyingly she slipped down on the only visitors' chair, crossing her legs and straightening out her tunic a bit. As she did, she noted that the gilded colouring on her nails was a bit shafed. Not good!  
"Good evening, professor," she replied, keeping her small purse in her lap, like some kind of mascot to protect her from the presumed bad news.

"I have some things I need to inform you about," professor Sinadaris went on. "Things, which may, at first come as a surprise to you. But when you think about it, you'll see the reason behind it," he went on and she felt herself cringe in the chair. Now what? Sinadaris wasn't usually the one to talk in riddles. And this confirmed her misgiving, that his news was bad.


	2. The professor

**The Professor**

"Narheda," professor Sinadaris began, with a solemn timbre, quite unusual for him. "I know that you have based the pre-work for your thesis upon some of the findings done during the excavation of the ruins in Rendell. That you have put down a lot of work in trying to prove your theory about the people once dwelling in those ruins. Now, I admire your dedication and your zest. All those hours you have put in to prove the things you desire to prove. But," he paused and Narheda felt the silence unnerving, but braced herself from saying anything, since she knew he was not done talking yet.

"The thing is that the University has now chosen to end the work on the excavations of Rendell and cancelling all its undertakings there. And that is because the government has sold all their estates up there."  
"Now, I don't follow, sure it can't..."  
"The buyer is a very high profiled construction company which is planning to build a resort by the river."  
"But the..."  
"The excavation rights will of course be cancelled. We can still get one or two months to sample the most important artifacts from the digs and bring them down here to Sarmaltar. But we will not get any extended time or funding, so the idea is to do this as quick as possibly before filling in the dig again."

"Professor?"  
"Wait," Sinadaris held up a plump and aged hand. "Let me finish. In fact, the Board believes that this is not only a disadvantage for the university. Because the things we, especially you, Narheda, have been working with up there have become – how should I say it – a bit compromising for the institution. So now, when the government decided to sell the estate, our Board sees a way to get out of this, uhm, predicament without having to make such fuzz about it. They can bury what they find problematic with the filling of the dig. And thus they won't have to answer to certain questions. So nobody will lose their face over the quandary."

"What questions?" Narheda tried again. "And compromising how?"  
"I guess you know that, Narheda."  
"No. Frankly I don't."  
"Narheda," Sinadaris shook his head. "You're not stupid, daughter of Nihaya. I know, you can guess where I'm coming from."  
"The... Elves?" she felt her throat running dry.

"Yes, Narheda. The Elves. You – and your mother before that, spent years trying to prove the existence of the Elven specie. During the first decade it was perhaps a bit funny with the doctorates looking for Elves among the ruins of Rendell. As if it all was about some girls and boys having fun on their professors' expense. Pulling their legs. Posting pictures on the ClickNet where they posed with old artifacts. But when first Nihaya and then you wouldn't stop engaging in this, it suddenly turned into something more than a just a funny game. It began to become slightly embarrassing for the University Board that we have full time paid researchers who were seriously looking for – Elves."

"Yes, but professor," Narheda inhaled. "Rendell – or Rivinederl or Rivendell as it was called in the ancient days – it has for centuries been regarded as the stronghold of the ancient Elves. For so long, these stories have been relegated to nursery rhymes and movie theatre materiel. And the general guy out there in the streets has believed the Elves to be nothing but fairytales. But when we started to excavate up there, I mean, when my mother and her project group started to excavate up there thirty years ago, when I was but a kid, they found this lost city. This city which most people thought never existed, save for in the mind of the bards. The city of the Elves. And we found artifacts matching those which the legends told about. The ancient weaponry and signposts carrying a language, which..."

"...which was all probably about a minority tribe of humans after all. With a bit of a different architecture and alphabet, I admit, but still nothing but humans."  
"But the skeleton parts. Those who we brought with us last summer! They prove clearly..."  
"Not any whole skeleton was found, and you know that. Those parts prove very little. The only thing it gives away was that the male must have been extremely tall and that the woman was as tall as a regular Grand Gondor man, however more slender than a Grand Gondor woman. But all expertize looking at those skeletons, claim they were nothing but humans."

"Humanoids," Narheda corrected him.  
"Humans," the professor insisted, still sounding so annoyingly calm and held together she wanted to scream at him, just to trigger some kind of reaction. Any reaction! But she knew better than that. Instead she simply said:  
"Sinadaris, honestly, do you believe in that assertion? That they were human, those skeletons?"  
"To be frank with you now, Narheda, it doesn't matter what I believe, this is not my decision. It is the University Board which has decided to close down the Rendell excavation. They have ordered it to be filled and are acting upon the direct order from the government, which is selling the estates. There is very little a man in my position can do. A simple professor."

"But if we can prove?"  
"There is no way we can do that, and you know it now. There is no time, Narheda."  
"But my thesis?"  
"I'm sorry."  
"I can't start over again. Not with anything else. I'm 32 years old already!"  
"You have very little choice, dear child. If you don't want to pursue another career."

"But we have two months, you say. If I can find a way to prove that there has been Elves during those months, then wouldn't you think it could be possible to stop this termination of our work?"  
"I can't see how you should be able to prove such a thing. Besides, honestly, no one believes in the Elves these days. No one believes that there ever was a race called Elves."  
"A Humanoid sub-specie."  
"A Humanoid sub-specie, I know you call it that."  
"Not just me, the biologist Traven of Gerentha, who examined the first skeleton, the male skeleton. He said it was different enough to be labeled another specie."

"And just what difference should that make?"  
"He believes Humans and Elves were not able to pro-create."

Now the Professor leaned back in his chair, sighing and making a face as if he was about to correct a misbehaving child.  
"Traven of Gerentha is a sensation maker. Do I need to point out that he's been trying to prove the existence of Hobbits and Dwarves as well? Not to mention those tree beings, whatstheirnames. Using outlandish methods of analyzing of the human DNA, analyses, which no other of his profession claim are being performed correctly. If there's anything Traven of Gerentha can do so is it making the sensationalists eating out of his hands. The tabloid press."

"Just because the tabloid press likes him does it have to mean he's wrong?" Narheda posed a rhetorical question.  
"Not necessarily no," Sinadaris had to admit, but he immediately went on. "But in this case it's undoubtedly so. And regardless of that, the Board has made its decision, and it became my somewhat unfortunate task to deliver this decision to you. Now, I do feel sorry for you, Narheda. I know that you are ambitious and have put in a lot of hours and engagement in this excavation. But it has come to an end with the decision the board made and I cannot change this. I can only recommend you to go to Rendell and to finish the work up there as swift and elegant as possible. And then to return to Sarmaltar and try to find something else to engage in. With your skill and energy it shouldn't be that hard. Just drop that disappointed face, will you. It doesn't become you."

*O*O*O*

"He said that?" Darik asked, his brows rocketing up in disbeleif as Narheda finished the recollection of her meeting with professor Sinadaris. When she barely nodded her head, Darik put a comforting hand upon her shoulder. "But there must be some way to appeal," her fiance went on and she looked into his kind, brown eyes, shadowed by the too long fringe. She regarded his well known, angular face surrounded by a halo of light brown curls, lacking any trace of white in spite of him going on 40. That hair took all kind of saturated, almost luminescent colours in the firelight from the nook and as he tilted his head, the light fell upon his slightly reddish stubble, making it glitter like sprinkled gold.

Darik, son of Jarik, had always been so supportive of her work. No matter that he was in a completely different business, as a programmer of infomates, he had always been listening to her description of her research, of her belief that there really had existed an Elven specie once. And her die-hard strive to prove it.

Then it mattered less that she had no clue about the work he was doing for DigiWare and what was really happening under the hulls of those infomates, no matter that these machines had become more or less indispensable to the people of Gondor. Darik has always been the listener. The firm shoulder to lean on when the going got tough. And now it was seemingly tougher than ever.

This evening, as so many others, were they sitting in the living room watching the firelight and shadows dance across their familiar surroundings. Their furniture, mostly modern ones in rounded plastic forms pleasant to the eyes and with cloned leather details, but also older ones crafted out of wood and steel. The rug checkered in six nuances of red, the headlight dimmed down to a faint orange, the decorative terracotta urns with their swirling black patterns holding large plants. The abstract art on the sole wall which wasn't occupied by book shelves, the switched off broadcast receiver. The BR was an old one, without 3D, and they had planned to replace it a long time now, but never gotten around.

"Now, Dar, what am I going to do?" she asked as she put her hands upon his shoulders, then ran them down his chest, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the silken fabric of the ocre-yellow caftan, making small circles with her fingers.  
"It won't be hard for you to find another line of work, dear," Darik did his best to reassure her. "There are many teaching positions open for a brilliant mind like you."  
"It's not that," Narheda despaired. "I don't doubt for a second I could find a teaching job, should I just put up my resume at any of the ClickNet work databases. It's not that. It's my legacy. I promised my mother to continue her work. I cannot let her down on that."

"Nari, dearest," he took hold of her hands, squeezing them lightly and with affection. "Sometimes we have to let go. Sometimes we make promises which we later on cannot keep, no matter how we try. Now, when it comes to the those we make to the dead, I know how they can appear set in stone, becoming a burden as society keeps changing around us, making the past obsolete including its prospects. Making the promises we gave earlier impossible to keep. But sweetheart of mine, I truly believe that your mother would have understood, had she known what was going on."

Now, Narheda felt how the salty sting beneath her eye-lids turned into a blurry cover across her eye surfaces, as the liquid overflew and the tears started down her cheeks. She sniveled as more of the tears ran into her nose and in response Darik took her in his arms and held her hard, almost rasping her forehead against his stubble.  
"I... I don't know... what to... to do," she staggered between the sobs and he threaded his left hand up her hair, undoing her ponytail as he softly murmured comforting words into the shell of her ear.

"This board decision, is there some way to appeal?"  
"I don't know. I've never heard of anything like it at least."  
"But there has to be a way," he was insisting. "We'll think of something, darling. Together, you and I. But not tonight, it's late and we're both exhausted after a long day. Each in our own line of work. But tomorrow, when the sun has come up again, it will feel much better. We'll both be well-rested and ready to take on the world with another attitude. Nari, you are not a spurned archeologist, you are not laid off, nothing like that. You still have your job."

"But what does that matter when I have nothing to do with it? When they are closing my dig? Destroying my life's work? Discarding my dreams? And most of all are they insulting my mother. Nihaya put her whole life into this enterprise, she gave so much and eventually she even sacrified her own life."

Closing her eyes, Narheda recalled the accident which had killed her mother and three other workers at the dig, and if she wasn't crying already she would have as those recollections invaded her brain, sending visions which she for so long had tried to suppress.

"Don't give up that easily, Nari." Darik suddenly let go of her, to be able to tilt up her face and making her meet his eyes, seeing the seriousness in them. "We will figure out something to make you keep your dig. Or at least prove that what you have been doing the right things. Perhaps there's some other way to verify that those Elves really existed. I will help you, I won't let you down on that, I promise." Darik placed a kiss upon the bridge of her nose before he continued. "I know a lot of odd people. Nerds, you might call them. But I believe some of them can pull some threads and find interesting things in the other end. Come now, let's go to bed and we'll work together on this starting tomorrow."

"I..." she felt hesitant, but she didn't want to disappoint him. Instead she sniveled one last time before drying off the tears from her cheeks and standing up from the sofa. Then she stepped back and held out her hands towards her beloved.  
"Yes," she agreed. "Let's go to bed. And make love to me tonight, Dar!"  
"With pleasure, Nari," he smiled gently at her as he too stood up.


	3. The knowledge that kills

**The knowledge that kills**

The connector call came the next day, just when Narheda was inside the door after a nerve tiring working day. She kicked off her shoes, liberating her almost cramping feet with a sigh of relief, at the same times as she plugged the receiver to her ear and plumped down in the pea sack chair next to the equipment. The text on the screen showed 'hidden caller' which made her frown a bit, she was not amused by people calling her anonymously, but she figured it might possibly be one of her students.

It wasn't.

The man calling her introduced himself as Arlig, son of Derlor, and his sligh lilt revealed that he was originally from out of town, Edoras, Narheda guessed. Or perhaps Miraxelis.  
"How may I be of help?" she asked tentatively, wishing for the umpteenth time that she could get a visual of the caller, actually see the other person the way those mythical palantirs were said to have provided their users with. But no, she had to be content with his raspy, accented voice on the other end of the line, however that wasn't all bad.

"I am the one who offer you aid, milady," this Arlig said, sounding like he was sitting on a crate of gold.  
"In what way?" Narheda returned, feeling curiosity awake.  
"I'm cutting the chit-chat because none of us have any use for it," Arlig went on. "I know about your dig and about the demise of it. I know what's going on up there in Rendell and the reactions around here when it comes to the discovery of the Elven city of Rivendell."

"The PRESUMED Elven city," Narheda felt herself forced to say and shifted in her seat, trying for a more comfortable position. Somehow she felt that this was going to be a lenghty conversation.  
"Oh, come on, doc! You know as well as I that it's bullshit. The Elves were real, very real. And it's only the superstitious scare of the hot shots that puts a lid on that truth. They know it as well as you and I. Enough people have seen the skeletons you and your crew unearthed to put together two and two and begin asking questions and now certain people want to put a stop to the spreading of this information. So they deny the proofs of the existence of an Elven race and they want to fill that dig again, hide your discoveries."

"Now, look, Mr..."  
"Let me finish, doctor! That resort they are talking about building in Rendell is only an excuse to get your people out of there, hindering you from unearthing more of the truth."  
"But what do they have to fear? I mean the Elves've been gone for..."  
"Do you want my help or not?"  
"Yes, but..."  
"I can give you the proof you need."

"In what way?"  
"My name doesn't ring a bell?" he asked her back.  
"Can't say it does. Neither your voice. Have we met?"  
"I wouldn't think so; all together you're a historian and an archeologist while I am a biologist. And a very renowned one at that, if I might humbly say so myself, doc. I've written quite a few articles in the major magazines out there, mostly about hazardous mutagens. My team has been working on finding a cure for the crayfish anomaly for more than 12 years now, and we're getting there slowly but steadily. But I didn't call you about my medical research."  
"I guessed not," Narheda said hesitantly. "So what's your point then?"

Dr. Arlig paused for a second, and she could hear people talking in the background on the other side of the receiver.  
"You see, a while back I was contacted by an old friend of mine. Professor Traven of Gerentha, I imagine you are familiar with him."  
"Yes," Narheda confirmed. "He's the one who's been doing research upon the Elven sub-specie, putting together those skeletons of the male and the female Elf out of the findings we did in Rendell."

"Traven and I are old friends from our sophomore years. We've been seeing each other over a goblet about twice a year ever since and I was a best man on his wedding a few years back. Now, almost a year ago he sent me information about his findings, and when I expressed my curiosity, he also sent me a part of a bone including some marrow."  
"An Elven bone?"

"You got that right. I did some research myself. First I thought that Traven must've been mistaken, but when I examined the finding more thoroughly I discovered that enough DNA in this bone differs from the typical Human. That bone did not origin from an individual of our specie. But it was no ape either. That bone did come from something else. Something more similar to us than the apes. Traven had been right. Just to make sure, I in turn sent a sample to Professor Iusa Vinidad at the University of Tharbad in Cardolan. Professor Iusa is one of the best there is, one of the most renowned researchers and biologists in the world. She was the one together with Tiryn Audun who in the year of 4135 isolated the TLB retrovirus, which eventually led to a cure for the Charnil disease. I imagined that if she could confess my findings there would be proof that there had indeed been something called an Elven sub-specie once."

"What did she find?" Narheda had to brace herself for the answer and in turn Arlig made a dramatic pause.  
"Professor Iusa confirmed my research. A week back she called me and told of her findings and yesterday the samples arrived to my lab together with her extensive writings. Right now, I'm preparing a thesis upon this and with Vinidad's name as a backup, I dare believe I will be published."  
"So it is certain then, the truth will be out!" Narheda felt almost giddy, and she had to brace herself to not drop the receiver.

"Yes, out in the street! Can you imagine people's reactions, when they learn that the Elves are, well, were real? It's going to be the revelation of the century! It will throw over all and everything we know about the evolution of the Human specie. We are not unique! We were never unique. And – if there were Elves, perhaps the Dwarves were real too. And the Hobians."  
"The legendary hairy feeted," Narheda felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips at the thought of it.  
"The very ones!" she could almost imagine Arlig nodding his head on the other side of the line.

Then another notion crossed her mind. The orc question. And she knew that this was burning hot stuff.

"Arlig," she asked. "Where do you have this proof? The things Professor Iusa wrote?"

"It's safe in my labs," Arlig assured. "Now, what I wish for you to do is to come over here tomorrow and have a look at her writings. To receive a copy of them. Then I imagine you can flaunt it in the face of your superiors and get your job back."  
"Let me just ask you one thing," Narheda said. "Why are you helping me?"  
"Because we scientists have to stick together. And because we are all working towards the same goal. Discovering the truth. And not letting bigotry and prejudices rule."

*O*O*O*

When Arlig and she had finished their conversation and hung up, Narheda walked out in the kitchen and poured herself a large goblet of cider and then she opened up the door to the narrow balcony, pulled out a chair and sat down watching the sleepy suburban street and the park beyond that. A few pre-teens were playing stickball on the grass plain, and two chattering basilisks were building a nest in a tree, that was about the only thing happening. Closing her eyes, she faced the sun and let it caress her cheeks, as she tried to come to terms with what she just had learned.

They were real. The best scientists had had their say in the matter. Now she ought to get her dig back, there was no other development she could see as reasonable. She could hardly wait for Darik to come home in the night so that she might tell him the good news.

*O*O*O*

The maglev braked softly at the University station and Narheda readied herself to step off. She was far from the only one disembarking at the large station, not only did it serve the University campus, but it was the connection hub between the Lenea-Nakurn line and the Takirdion line, and many passengers were exchanging trains here as well.

Still Narheda couldn't shake the eerie sensation that there was someone having their eyes upon her. What in Middle Earth's name..? She turned her head as she stepped on the down going escalator, glancing quickly at the people behind her. Nothing special, just the ordinary motley crew of commuters. However, she reminded herself; she had no idea what to look for. Perhaps there was just someone checking her out for one reason or the other. She wasn't exactly infamous, not in the world of the scholars after all. Someone might have read her thesis, someone might have learned about her misfortune the other week...

Or someone might just be looking at girls...

Stepping off the escalator, she followed the crowd which was heading for the campus area, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation she was experiencing. She was surely imaging it, and if she wasn't, was it really that bad being checked out? Proved that she wasn't insignificant after all. If it wasn't for the impression that the stare had been so hostile...

Outside of the campus entrance there was a large road construction going on, closing off more than half of the street, and huge, blinking orange boards were directing the traffic around as collared orc slave workers were digging in the ground. Their keepers, two sturdy thugs in the Municipal Street Office's green and yellow coloured coveralls were watching over the six orcs, their tazers dangling from their belts. Narheda swallowed at the sight of the matte black and conically shaped weapons, she had once been swatted by a tazer, back when she was young and thought she could still change the world and had partaken in a demonstration which had gone out of hand. It had hurt like hell and back and she still recalled that discomfort upon seeing those weapons. No wonder the orcs stayed in line, regardless of each them being able to break every bone in the bodies of those keepers. Truth was the orcs would never get near them.

The orc question, that was one of the thing she and Arlig had briefed over during their connector conversation yesterday. If it could be proven that the orcs were in fact their own sub specie and not some unfortunate mutation which had been bred upon by humans back in the 22th century, then the issue of keeping them enslaved would be worth a completely new debate.

But first thing first, she turned left on the other side of the Marble Arcs instead of walking straight ahead as she usually did when coming here. Then she started descending a shallow slope, skipping to the right at the urgent chimes of quickpede bells. Darn! Some people were apparently very much in a hurry today. And there were sirens as well, a piercingly ululating blare cutting through the general background noise of the campus. As Narheda lifted her head in the direction of the blaring noise, she saw black smoke bellowing up over the tree line. Something was apparently on fire over there.

Moving closer, she found that it was quite nearby the...

Yes... Oh no!

Picking up the piece of paper where she had scribbled down Dr. Arlig's address upon, she found that it was the very building being on fire. Pavilion 64 B, a dirt-pink sandstone cube with a slightly u-shaped gray bricked roof, just like so many other buildings here. Now what?

The area in front of the structure on fire was cordoned off with neon orange ropes and there were several crimson red vehicles of the fire brigade present as well as two yellow city guard cars and an ambulance, the latter was just pulling put, a duo of city guards moving the ropes to let it pass. The fire brigade was busy spraying water upon the structure on fire and outside the ropes were the mandatory crowds of curious onlookers.

Arlig! That was naturally the first thing Narheda thought as she tried to get as close as possible to the cordoned off area to see if she could spot the biologist. She hoped he was all right. And she wondered what could have happened. A persistent little inkling was picking at the back of her mind, drawing up a triangle between her and Arlig's connector conversation of yesterday, the stranger who had been regarding her upon the train and now this event. Could it be – arson? Could it be connected to Dr. Arlig's findings regarding the Elves somehow?

As she made it forward, she spotted a familiar profile to the left of her. A tall, comely woman in her mid thirties dressed in a wide and long, navy-blue leather cloak with a pelt-brimmed hood tilted back. Hikarete, daughter of Dinaka. Another historian of her own institution and another post-graduate of professor Sinadaris.

"Hikarete," she stopped and addressed the other woman. In response, Hikarete turned her dark head and faced Narheda, her yellowish green eyes sparkling with recognition – and some barely concealed pity as well, which Narheda felt she hated the very sight of.

"Nari!" Hikarete said. "Good to see you! I heard about..."  
"Yes, everyone has, right," she replied, tried and failed to keep the resentment out of her voice. "But that's nothing like this! You know anything more than someone like I, who just arrived?"

Hikarete made a face. Narheda could tell that she was uncomfortable about it.  
"They brought out a dead guy just before you came here. I supposed he had been in there, and that the smoke got him. You know it's most often the smoke that kills."  
"Any idea who it was?" Narheda feared the worst.  
"No clue, he was beneath a cover. But it sure was creepy the way they put him in the ambulance and it just drove away. No sirens at all, the sure sign of it carrying a dead body instead of a wounded someone."

Narheda swallowed against the discomposure. The smoke that kills? No, in this case, make that the knowledge that kills.

"I suppose," she began. She didn't get to say more before the deafening explosion made the roof of Pavilion 64 B to lift and the pressure wave threw them all backwards like so many pawns on a tipping game board. The next instance debris started to rain and Narheda covered her head against the hazard, feeling somewhere inside of her – knowing somewhere inside of her - that it had been Arlig of Derlor in that ambulance.


	4. The safe and the chase

**The safe and the chase**

"Lady Narheda?" the young man's voice cut through the hubbub. "Daughter of Nihaya?" Narheda, who was helping Hikarete up, turned to face a man who could hardly be more than in his mid 20ies. He was slender and dark-skinned like the people of Harnendor, with his curly, jet-black hair done in small braids and tied back in a knot at the back of his head, and he was wearing a long, red cotton kaftan over black leather. He was pulling a likewise red quickpede as he came half-running across the rubble-covered asphalt.

"Yes, that's me," Narheda replied. At the same time did she note that Hikarete was bleeding upon her forehead.  
"I'm... I'm Luwan," the young man staggered, catching his breath. "Luwan al Magni. Uh, that is son of Magni."  
"And how may I help you?" she enquired, feeling her mind returning to Hikarete, and something to stop the bleeding with.  
"It's... it's... the doc," Luwan went on, making very little sense.  
"Who?" Narheda replied as she took her attention off the youth and started to rummage in her bag to retrieve a napkin for her friend. Finding what she was looking for, she handed it over to Hikarete, who received it thankfully. "What doc?" Narheda pressed on.

"Arlig al Derlor."  
"Arlig? You mean the researcher in the building that exploded? Is he all...?"  
"He told me, he told me," Luwan went on while reaching inside of his kaftan. "If anything should happen to him, I should give you this. It's a key. To a safe. In a bank." He was now holding out an envelope with a trembling hand, and for the first time did Narheda see that his eyes were wet. Yes, something had indeed happened to her newly made acquaintance, and Narheda shivered in spite of the warmth of the midmorning sun as an uncomfortable shiver ran down her spine.

With an almost reluctant hand she received the envelope and she could clearly feel the form of a small key through the thin, gray paper.  
"Did he say which bank?" she asked, meeting the coal black eyes of Luwan. The latter nodded his head.  
"Bank of Anfalas. Has its main office at 156 Anárion Boulevard. We can go there now if you want and..."

"No," she shook her head. "You don't have to come. I... He... what happened?"  
"I don't know really," Luwan wetted his lips, he appeared as if he was struggling with a chock. "There was some... something he found which... he told us all to get out and then there was an explosion. And I and Getilla, we ran for our lives and... Getilla is another post-grad, she... we made it out, but... Arlig never came."

Biting her lip, Narheda kept listening to the young man's recollections about the now obvious arson in the lab.  
"So there were two explosions?" Narheda could hear Hikarete ask from behind. "One early on and another later?"  
"Yes," Luwan nodded his head. "They must have set... they must have been able to break into the building at night, setting up the time bombs. That should not be possible, the place should be closed down for all without the proper access."  
"Shows we have appallingly resourceful badasses to deal with," Narheda said angrily. "Now, I will go to that bank and open up the safe, and I will take these matters in hand, make them public before anyone else get killed because of them."

"I'll come with you," Luwan said.  
"No, you don't!"  
"Yes I am," the young man insisted. "And that's not open for discussion, Arlig was my mentor and he has been like an older brother to me during those years. I want to do my part in assuring he didn't die in vain."  
"Okay then," Narheda sighed. "But don't blame me when the going gets tough."  
"Cross my heart, I won't," Luwan assured. "We better take a taxi down there, the maglev will take too long and is probably not safe should anyone intercept us."  
"Valid point," Narheda said and then she made sure Hikarete was fine. The other woman nodded her head.

"Be careful, Nari!" she said, raising her left hand in a greeting while her right one remained pressed towards her forehead, holding the cloth over where the bleeding was finally dwindling down.  
"You too," Narheda said. "And see a medic, will you! You might need some stitches done to that."

Five minutes later Luwan had parked and locked his quickped in a parking stand and then he followed Narheda when she walked out beneath the Marble Arcs again. She had spent less than an hour at the campus, a timespan which nevertheless felt like a life time. Once again her life had been derailed and just as she thought she was going to force it back on track again.

So now she was on her way to a bank to see what was hidden in one of its safes. Her sixth sense told her that it was among other things Dr. Arlig's research regarding the Elves. And she had ended up with a side kick, this Luwan the Harnendorite, and against her will had she to admit it felt a bit better having him there, no matter that she had no desire to pull him into this mess. However he behaved as if he was already in it, and perhaps that was true. Perhaps he too was eager to pull the veil off the truth of the lost specie.

Luwan stepped out from the sidewalk and into the street when a bright orange vehicle came advancing towards them, snaking around the construction site where the orc slaves kept on digging as if nothing around them mattered. TAXI red the large, ornate letters painted to the sides of the car. When Luwan wolf-whistled at the vehicle it pulled to the side and came to a halt in front of him and the older woman.  
"Where to?" asked the driver as he pushed out his elderly face through the side window and Narheda gave him the address to the bank and they were welcome to hop inside.

Both Narheda and Luwan chose the back seat, since they had things to ask each other and the vehicle filtered into the traffic and began making its way down towards central Sarmaltar. Narheda started off small-talking, asking the younger man about his studying, how long he had been at it and where he originally came from.

"Troshal, Harnendor," he confirmed her guesses. "I'm here on a scholarship. Sponsored by a governmental fund. The idea is that I'm to return to Harnendor as a medic or a professor, but I have come to feel more and more that I would like to stay here in Gondor. This is kind of more like my place if you know what I mean. The people here are much more open-minded and generous in mind and in thought than back home. And here it's not so much about being born in the right family and knowing people in high places as it is about being an earnestly hard working and clever guy."

"I know very little about your country," Narheda had to admit, as the traffic light switched to blue and the traffic began moving again. The car turned right and they came out on the broad and tree-lined Eshanasar Avenue. Now the glittering azure river Anduin became visible and in the hazy distance one could spot the mighty Argonaths, the statues which had stood since the dawn of Gondor, and which were said to picture two ancient, these days nameless kings. However the origin of the statues was questioned, including how they could have been built, without the help of modern technology. Some people claimed that they had to have been raised using magic, adding to the fuel of this centuries old debate regarding the existence of magic.

One of the kings had lost his once outstretched arm in an earthquake back in 3698 and the second statue was without his head, which had been blown to pieces in an act of terror performed by Mordorian separatists at the end of the last century. Nevertheless the statues made up for a breathtaking sight and just as every other time Narheda saw them, they filled her with an odd kind of pride and a sense of belonging. A belonging that sung in her blood and harked back millennia, back to the time when her ancestors had fought for the safety of this land. As such the Argonaths were a symbol not only for Sarmaltar but for the whole Gondor itself.

Suddenly, the taxi received a violent shunt from behind, shaking Narheda out of her ponderings. The vehicle slewed sharply to the left and slammed into a quickpede, its rider screamed and disappeared from view. Frantically the driver turned the wheel and the tyres screamed, but the car was hit again, jolting them forward. Now the taxi mounted the pavement and began to slow down, their chaffeur yelling out profanities regarding the other driver's ancestry and private parts while he was gesticulating wildly.

Narheda craned her neck and caught sight of the car which had hit them as it pulled up alongside with their vehicle, it was a green and red Meara with one single curved tail fin. Now, the rear window was opening and a rifle was beginning to home in and she felt her eyes widen with fright, but she thought quickly and grabbed Luwan's caftan, pulling him to the floor. Becoming aware of the danger, their driver braked and the other car sped past, a hail of bullets smashed through the side windows exiting through the rear.

The sound was that of shattering glass and tearing metal as more bullets hit the front door and raked down the bonnet. Then came a second impact from the rear, but not a sudden jolt as before, this was a prolonged push. There was another car out there to get them! Narheda couldn't believe this was happening. What beehive had she really trampled into?

Now the taxi driver gave a muted cry and slumped over the wheel, as the back end of his pale yellow tunic began to turn bright red. Understanding their driver was dead, Narheda was leaning over and she tried with all her might to pull his heavy frame away from the wheel, to reach for it, but another salvo of gunfire smashed into the bonnet and then the driver. Cursing out loud, the archeologist ducked down behind the seat while bullets thudded into the upholstery. She could hear Luwan screaming in his own language from the floor, where he was half-sitting curled up and with arms and hands protecting his head.

The now out of control taxi swerved and hit the safety chain between the files, the pressure from the car behind was constant and in an instant the chain burst apart, the links pinged and zinged in all directions and the front wheel dropped over the edge. A car coming against them on the other side was blowing its horn prolonged and angrily.

Narheda sat up and reached for the driver again and began to push his body away from the wheel. For an instant she grabbed the steering wheel and turned it away from the edge and the taxi began to come around. But the roar of the engine from the car behind alerted her that their attackers had accelerated and engaged again. The steering wheel spun out of Narheda's grip and for a moment the taxi teetered on the edge, cut across the opposite going files to the sounds of blaring horns of the meeting traffic and then with an abrupt change in direction it plummeted right down into the Anduin.

When the vehicle hit the water, Narheda and Luwan were thrown back on to the rear seat, pieces of glass tore at their clothing and their skin. The taxi began a lazy roll and the river water poured in through the shattered windows. The water was freezing and the shock galvanized them both into action. They tried the doors but there was no give, the taxi sank like a rock altering its trajectory as the nose dropped. The dead driver took the force of the water and his body began to slide over the front seat. Now the water was up to their shoulders and they began taking deep breaths. When the water was at their chins they took one last look around and gulped in one final breath of air. Within seconds they were submerged.

Trying the door handle again, Narheda found that it wouldn't move and she began to feel the despair, the pressure of the water had sealed the doors closed. The light was fading as they sank down in the boundless green water and dreadfully they began looking around for a way to escape. Together they realized there was only one way out, Narheda could just make out the blurred form of Luwan's upwards pointing index finger. Quickly the couple struggled out through the destroyed rear window, the corpse of the driver floated grotesquely after them, its hand touched Narheda's leg and she almost screamed into the cold silent nightmare.

The momentum was still forcing them down, sucking at their tired bodies. Narheda kicked hard and felt how her foot knocked against the boot of the taxi and she steadied herself and swam for all her worth, aiming for the surface. Pieces of broken glass were bouncing off her and her lungs were bursting, air was seeping from her nose and mouth in a cascade of bubbles. Out of the corner of her eyes she could make out the dark form of Luwan as he too was fighting to reach the surface.

Knowing there was only seconds of air left in her reserves, she pushed on. If Luwan was in the same condition as her, he too would be taking in water very soon and she knew time had run out. However she could see that there was light above them, a glittering mercury surface - they were nearly there. If only she could hold on. Kicking again she realized that the power was gone from her legs. They were so close to the surface, so close to leaving this nightmare but she felt as if she was carrying lead around her ankles, that she had been fighting this for eons.

Then, with a flourish they broke the surface, trough teary eyes beholding the ragged stone of the quay. Narheda became aware of people shouting, then suddenly in front of her there were hands reaching down and pulling them from the water and after scraping over the side, they were finally on terra firma. Excited people were crowded all around, someone was trying to help her stand but her strength was all but gone and she felt herself sink to the knees, spitting sea water from the river as she did. And somewhere she could hear the easily recognizeable sound of sirens as the emergency vehicles were closing in.

"By Middle Earth, Narheda," she was hearing the Harnendorite next to her, he was coughing and vomiting as well. And she knew that nonetheless that they were safe for now, those who were after them would soon be back to try to finish what they had started.


	5. Too late

**Too Late**

By the time of midday, both Narheda and Luwan had been heard by the city guards several times. Otorian, son of Gadrian was the one who had been questioning Narheda. He was a muscled gentleman about her own age and he would have been quite on the handsome side, had not a large scar marred his chiseled face. Most of it was hidden by a trim full beard, however there was no denying that it was there, and Narheda was convinced that it was of the kind that still pained now and then, especially in foul weather.

"I think," Otorian finished while capping his shiny gray electronic pen, "that we now have got everything there is to be said from you and your colleague. As well as from the people witnessing the event down by the river. We've now established the brand, model and colour and the direction of both the cars involved in the episode. The Maera with the killer of the driver and the Falcon chasing you down in the river, a depiction of the shooter in the window of the Maera and the suspicion that it has a connection with the by now confirmed arson in the Institution of Biology, Pavilion 64 B, over at the University."  
"That's correct," Narheda nodded in agreement.  
"Do you care to speculate what might've been behind those two events taking place today?"

"Yes, some research which I and the late Dr. Arlig have been involved in."  
"A historian and a biologist together?"  
"No, I've been working on a theory based upon some of the findings in our excavation up in Rendell and Dr. Arlig has been doing some parallel research regarding the DNA of some of the humanoid remnants found there."  
"You must excuse me," Otorian said and let his dark brown eyes tip down in his CarryInfomate where he had been making notes up until now, "but I don't really know how you scholar people work."

"Very seldom in multi institutional teams," Narheda explained. "Not that it wouldn't benefit us, but there's always this competition going on for funding and for attention between the institutions, and that naturally hinders any lengthier and more fruitful co-work. If such is not ordered from higher places, that is, and then it's seldom productive, because the participants often feel run over."  
"I see," the guard nodded his head, however Narheda could feel that he really didn't – plus he didn't particularly care since this was really beside the point of his crime investigation. Now Otorian stood and held out a large, blocky hand.

"Well, I should thank you for your cervices to the city, milady and wish you a good day. There might be a need to make some further enquiries later on, however then I assume it'll be enough to give you a call."  
"Yes," she replied in relief as she too rose from her place and took his offered hand. "You're welcome to do so." Then she hesitated briefly. "Would you keep us informed if you should make any progress? Perhaps by catching some of the culprits behind these atrocities?"  
"Certainly," officer Otorian confirmed and then they pressed palms before he followed her out.

Luwan was waiting in the portico outside the city guard station, leant against a pillar and with his arms pulled around his slender form as if he was freezing. And perhaps he was. Mentally at least. When he spotted her he smiled meekly.  
"Shall we give the bank another try already today?"  
"Why wait?" she said. "We have everything to win by keeping up the momentum. Those who want to silence us will not sit put and wait."

"I'd hope you'd say that, let's go."  
"No taxi this time," she suggested. "I actually do assume we're safer riding the maglev. Too much people around for them to dare to try anything."  
"Like shooting into a crowd." Luwan said. "Hope they're not that scrupulous."  
"Most people are not."  
"Perhaps not here in Gondor. It would be different where I come from. Some people in Harnendor wouldn't hesitate such madcap schemes to get the one they want to."

There was a dry matter-of-factness to Luwan's tone which made Narheda shiver with discomfort. Almost as if the young man was used to this behaviour, and while he didn't find it acceptable, it was no strange thing to him. Not the way it was to her at least.  
"But I guess you're right," Luwan went on after a few seconds of silence. "Let's take the maglev. And let's catch something to eat on the run!"  
"Good idea," Narheda agreed, since she realized at that moment that she was starving. It had been a while since she had breakfast but she had been so tense up until now that food had not had the chance to be on her mind. So as they began walking towards the nearest maglev station, they stopped by at a mobikitchen and bought themselves one turkey bread roll each and cider to wash it down with.

*O*O*O*

Half an hour later they were entering the large ziggurat-shaped office of Bank of Anfalas. The vaulted marble hall was airy and slightly chilly, as if the heat of the day never really got the chance to reach through the thick walls of the building. Huge windows were hung with semitransparent cream-white curtains, letting in an ambient, slightly yellow light which painted large, soft rhombs on the floor where people walked to and from, talking mutedly. Brass items were gleaming dimly and the shadows in the corners were almost tangible, as if they had lives on their own.

There was almost something - sacred in places like this, Narheda thought. Yes, sacred was the word, as if the huge halls dedicated to the finances had somehow kept some of the allure which once used to be dedicated to the religions and the gods, before men had grown out of them.

Narheda and Luwan crossed the shiny marble floor and came up to the counter, where a handful of people were waiting prudently in line, and when it became their turn, Narheda presented the key to the young woman behind the counter. Her name tag told them her name was Laldi, daughter of Velda and she was young and slender, with a soft, creamy-skinned and heart-shaped face. Her radiantly ginger hair was twirled in perfect, small, circular curls, winding down over her thin shoulders, and to Narheda she looked way too young to be working in a bank. Or perhaps it was just Narheda who was getting old.

Laldi took the key and held it over a scanner and there was a small beep and a blue light to be seen, indicating the key was legit. Then she lifted her eyes towards Narheda.  
"Do you have any ID?" Laldi's voice sounding bright and sweet, reminding of light, melted butter.

As a response, the scholar reached inside of her bag and produced the small plastic square identifying her as Narheda daughter of Nihaya, her profession, address and year of birth and that mug shot she wasn't exactly proud of, since she looked both overweight and tired in it. But there was nothing to do about that? Everyone looked horrible in their ID mug shots, it seemed like some kind of natural law, just like the sun raised in the east and you drove on blue light.

Laldi scrutinized first Narheda's then Luwan's ID, appearing a bit hesitant when reading from the latter, no doubt a bit concerned by his foreign status. But then she nodded her head, indicating it was all right, by presenting them with forms to sign, which she then took care of, counter-signed, stamped and put away in a locker.

"Now come with me," Laldi then said delicately before closing her booth and leaning over and talking to the dark-skinned likewise young man sitting in the booth next to hear. Following that she stood and walked over to a small brass gate, indicating for Narheda and Luwan to come and do the same. She opened up the gate using a keycard she carried around her neck and admitted the duo inside.

"This safe is to be found down in the basement," she explained to them. "I will walk with you down there and let you inside a locked room where you can spend half an hour as default. Then I'll come down and fetch you. Should you feel you need more time, you can be allotted another half an hour maximum. Longer than that and you'll have to come back later. If you on the other hand should feel that you're done already earlier than that, or if there's anything unclear, there's a little buzzer attached to the wall, which you can press and you'll receive aid, either by me or by one of my colleagues."

With that Laldi had escorted them down a flight of broad and turning sand-coloured marble stairs and into a vault room which she had opened up using the same keycard as she had used for the brass door earlier. This heavy iron door fanned open, presenting a hallway where the lights flickered on automatically and Narheda and Luwan tailed Laldi down to the second farthest off room. Sturdy iron grid doors closed off those rooms from the hallway and Laldi was once again deploying her keycard to let them in. Down here it was dank and quite cold and Narheda rubbed her bare arms against the discomfort.

"Number 1687 is your safe as you might know," Laldi said and then she indicated a red button attached to the wall. "Remember what I said about the buzzer! Now I'll leave you to your business, I hope it's fruitful." With those words the banker had bowed gently and backed out through the grid door and closed it behind her, locking them inside the room with the safety boxes.

To the resounding clang of the door shutting followed by the clicking sound of the lock, Narheda and Luwan had faced each other. They were both thinking the same thing. If anyone of their invisible foes were coming to get them, here would be the perfect place for doing so. They were trapped like rats by now; there was nowhere to hide from say a torrent of bullets from a machine gun. The little wooden table in the middle of the room was way too flimsy to take cover behind.

Therefore Narheda regretted not taking some kind of precautions with her. Like a weapon. On the other hand, even if Narheda would have known how to handle a gun, she would never have been able to enter through the security control of the bank carrying it. She shrugged it off.

"Number 1687," she echoed Laldi's words from earlier and then she and Luwan walked across the room, and soon enough they found their box somewhere in the middle of the room.

Narheda pushed the key into the lock and opened the shiny brushed steel box with a muted click. The small but thick door swung open – and they found themselves staring at an empty compartment. Now what?  
"But it should be there?" Luwan was pulling his brows together in consternation. "Doc Arlig was very clear with that. Here should be copies of all the research results he had received from Professor Iusa Vinidad of Cardolan."  
"Perhaps he decided to move it before the arson, and never got the chance to tell you so," Narheda speculated, before her eyes caught sight of something small lying halfway in there. A folded together sheet of paper.

Narheda reached inside and plucked out the sheet, folding it up and finding herself staring at one single sentence printed in block letters in the middle of the sheet.

_Don't stick your nose where it shouldn't be, or you'll burn it!_

"Damnations!" Narheda cursed as she showed the sheet to Luwan. He took it and read it before making a face and saying the obvious:  
"They beat us to it. The bastards!"

Then they were staring at each other, both of them thinking the same worried thought. Now, they were not the only ones who were in danger. Someone else could very possible also become the victim of their skulking enemies. Iusa Vinidad! The Cardolanian professor.


	6. The trip to Tharbad

**The trip to Tharbad**

Seen from the air, Tharbad, Cardolan looked more or less similar to the Gondorian city of Sarmaltar, a frozen firework of light spreading out across the land and meandering up the hills surrounding the vale and with the dark crack of a broad river cutting through the explosion of light – in this case the river of Gauathlon. However as the airship closed in one soon noted that the buildings seemed lower than those of Sarmaltar and the city appeared more sprawled, disappearing in the haze surrounding it. And the flight station was smaller and more modern than the worn monstrosity that was Ithilium International.

It hadn't taken long between the bumps of the wheels hitting the runway and the de-embarkment through a docked gate and an arrival directly into the station building without having to cross the tarmac below. A sliding floor had then taken Narheda and Luwan off to immigration and well through that, they reached the exit of the structure. While Luwan had taken care of getting them a Taxi (Narheda praying for better luck with this ride than the one earlier in the day) she sat down on a stone bench, delighting in the fact that it was heated up, and produced her portable communicator to do her best to try to find the number to Professor Iusa Vinidad. Thus she discovered that the Cardolan system for retrieving comsubscribers was a worm nest making Gondorian bureaucracy feel like a walk in the park.

Finally there had been a clicking sound at the other end of the receiver and a soft and slightly twangy voice had responded with the second name. Vinidad. The way the Cardolans were proffering their second name was still a riddle to Narheda and she almost hesitated before presenting herself, using her most professional scholar voice.  
"I'm calling because of the tragic event involving a colleague to both of us, Doctor Arlig, son of Derlor. And a good friend of you, as I have come to understand too."

"Derlor?" Narheda thought she traced a small tremor in the voice of the Tharbadian. "What has he now been involved in? What has happened?"  
"Professor, I'd rather not talk about it right here, right now out in the middle of a busy street. I and a young man named Luwan al Magni, who has been a student and an assistant of Arlig, we are now here in Tharbad. Because we believe the situation has become so serious that we need to pay a visit to you face to face."

"Face to face," the woman breathed in on the other side of the line. "What can really be so essential..."  
"We'll explain when we get to you."  
"And I should just take your words for it?"  
"You'd better do."  
"Now, listen here, Mrs..."  
"Narheda of Nihaya," she repeated her name. "And I know this sounds insane, but this is very important and it's slowly getting out of our hands."  
"And now you want my help because I knew Derlor?"

"Yes. As you will want our help as well," Narheda said, putting more stress to her wording. At the same time she caught sight of Luwan waving her over from a few yards away, he had apparently gotten them a ride. "Now where can we meet you?"  
"Mrs. Nihaya, it's not like I don't hear the distress in your voice – no, don't sigh at me, but I've had one too many prank calls from drunk students to beware of what I'm accepting to do."  
"Well, name a neutral place, a café over at your campus or a nearby bar or something. Do trust me! This is no prank call and you won't regret it. My distress is very much sincere, I bet you can hear that if you listen closely."

Finally the Tharabadian professor had relented and a minute later Narheda had slid into the passenger's compartment of the taxi, next to Luwan and provided the driver with an address. In response the woman behind the wheel gave the accelerator a smooth squeeze and inched the car out in the traffic.

While they were rolling towards central Tharbad, Narheda glanced out the window at the sights of the city. It was not much telling her they were in a foreign country, the street signs were slightly different and the houses had a certain otherness to them as well. They were narrower and higher, rows and rows of similar townhouses where the only differences were colours of doors and window blinds and the divergence in the abundance of wine that clung to the wrought iron balconies and other cornucopias decorating the houses.

Narheda reminded herself that from time to time Tharbad had belonged to Gondor. That was why they spoke the same language, unlike the people of for instance Harnendor or Khazad-Dûm. Tharbad had also been part of a now defunct kingdom named Eriador, a name which these days lived on as the name of a province.

About half an hour later the taxi driver turned into an insignificant side street and by a small but fancy looking tavern, the car had come to a halt. Narheda paid the driver and as they exited the ride, they became aware of a light rain which had began to fall. The air was misty, painting glowing halos around the street lights and the cobblestones were gleaming with moist, reflecting the light and shifting in hue as the traffic light at the exit of the street turned blue and their taxi disappeared down the yonder esplanade its engine roar fading and blending into the ambient sound of the city traffic.

Turning their backs on the street, Narheda and Luwan entered the place named The Noldorinian Kiln And Kettle. It was dimly lit inside and furnished with round little tables covered in cream white tablecloths. About ¾ of the tables were occupied by guests and the room was filled with their muted talking together with the clinking sound of cutlery against china and soft claviature music emitting from hidden speakers.

A waiter met them at the door, a short and stout balding man with the kind of pencil mustache which was often seen on Cardolanian men.  
"We're here to meet a lady named Iusa Vinidad," Narheda told the waiter and bowed her head politely. "Has she arrived yet?"  
"Ah yes - the revered professor," the face of the waiter lit up as he obviously recognized the name. "She is here all the ready, just as you assumed, I will show you to your table."

With that he bowed in return before he turned around and began walking down an aisle and over to a booth at the back end of the restaurant. As they arrived they spotted an elegantly looking elderly lady with her purple and blue hair in a sophisticated updo decorated with crystal pearls which glistened in the dim light. She wore a high-necked velvet bodysuit, purple as well and with cyan coloured details which were almost luminescent in the dusky room. The lady stood, she was taller than she had appeared whilst sitting down and she presented her age-freckled hands to the newly arrivals, crinkled moss-coloured eyes regarding them with interest.

"I'm professor Vinidad, and you must be Dr. Nihaya."  
"That's true," Narheda confirmed, feeling it odd to hear her mother's name in spite of knowing the manners of the Cardolanians. When Iusa Vinidad turned to Luwan he introduced himself as Luwan al Magni, also telling that he was from Harnendor. They pressed palms before they sat down around the square table in the booth and small talked briefly, letting Iusa tell them what she recommended for eating at this tavern. A waitress showed up at their table, the young woman had arrived almost soundlessly and she bowed politely while receiving their orders, and then she was off almost as if she had turned invisible on spot.

That was when Narheda decided to turn serious.  
"The reason for this unexpected visitation, professor, is that Dr. Arlig, uh, Arlig of Derlor is dead."  
"Dead?" not unexpectedly Iusa raised a neatly plucked brow.  
"Unfortunately yes. Dead as in murdered," Narheda went on and Iusa opened her mouth again, but changed her mind and closed it, letting Narheda go on with her story. The Gondorite began with the closing down of her own archeological excavation in Rendell, moved on with the call from Dr. Arlig and then the arson at the campus and the tries to kill her and Luwan earlier in the day. Finally she had told about the discovery in the bank and how they therefore had come to dread that the Cardolanian professor might be in danger too.

When they had arrived to that point in the story the food had already landed on their table and they were eating slowly, savouring the spicy, flavory and rather exotic meat-based cuisine of Noldorin.  
"I felt the need to warn you as well," Narheda finished her narrating, facing the professor. "I also reckoned the importance of doing so in person, just because of the resourcefulness and the ruthlessness of those people trying to stop us."

"This all is very surprising," the woman sitting opposite of Narheda said before she drunk from her cup of cider, looking down at the golden beverage as she was evidently collecting her thoughts. Putting the cup back down at the table, she faced the Gondorites again and went on. "I imagine you don't know who might be behind this, but do you have any theory of why they're seeking to silence you? Call me naïve, but I can't see no reason why anyone should not want the world to know that there once was a race of Elves walking the soil of Middle Earth."

"I think it has to do not so much with the Elves as with the orcs," Narheda said and savoured her cider as well. It was drier than the beverages she was used to, almost with an acerbic tang to it.  
"Now, I'm not sure I follow," Iusa looked from Narheda to Luwan and then back again.  
"It's very much Gondor politics," Narheda breathed in, putting down her cutlery. "Imagine that we should somehow manage to show that the Elves really existed. That they were their own specie and not some kind of mutation or inbreeding fluke, then it might very well be possible that the orcs are a race of their own too, and not a mutation the way most people are considering them as."

"So?" Iusa kept her brows pulled together, urging Narheda to go on.  
"Today the orcs are being used as cheap labour all over Gondor. Cheap labour bordering on – and in certain cases definitely being outright slavery. They are deployed in mines, in factories, in nuclear plants, on construction sites and in all other places where hard and hazardous manual work is in need to be done. The treatment of the orcs is mainly based upon the credence that they are nothing but mindless beasts. Strong and sturdy and thus fit for hard and heavy work. Easy to train to perform simpler tasks but without any deeper emotional gifts. You've probably heard that an orc was sent out in orbit in the beginning of the space program, its vital statistics monitored carefully, before the pod simply was left to crash down in the ocean outside the Thyriac Codyan reefs. Nobody caring for a second that a sentient being was on board the pod. As a matter of fact, the orcs are treated with lesser consideration than cattle, which after all are getting a humane euthanasia when their lives are done."

"In Gondor," Narheda continued, "the orcs are believed to be nothing but the result of a mutation of mine workers in the eastern parts of Mordor or perhaps even as far off as in Rhun, back somewhere in the fifteenth or perhaps fourteenth century. Something caused by the heavy radiation measured in certain cavities out in the badlands over there."  
"It's no different here in Cardolan," Iusa confirmed. "Actually I believe the orcs are getting an even shorter leash here ever since the upheaval in Isengard in 4118."

"I can imagine, even if we have had nothing similar in Gondor," Narheda replied. "However the people of Gondor have begun opening their eyes regarding the orcs recently, demanding that they should be getting a more fair treatment. That they should be considered worthy of the same respect as at least horses or dogs. And I believe that if the Elves are proven to have once existed, people will start to question the orcs' place in the evolution as well. And that, I believe, is what those people pursuing us are fearing."

Now it was as if something dawned in the mind of professor Iusa. Her face lit up and she leaned forwards, putting her pointy elbows on the table.  
"And these are resourceful people I imagine," Iusa mused. "They don't want to lose their cheap labour. They rather see some pesky annoying scientists becoming lost. Before these scientists stumble too close to the truth or at least too close to the ideas that will make people start raising questions about the treatment of the orcs."  
"Yes," Luwan breathed out. "They were resourceful enough to successfully bribe, threat or lure themselves into someone else's bank safe. And that's what scares me. Because upon finding your writings in the bank safe, they must realize that you're also involved, Iusa, and they might try something against you too. I have no doubt that they might be able to reach across the Cardolanian border to try to get to you."

"It has already occurred," Iusa Vinidad confirmed while cutting a purplish red piilfruit in half. "The other day I was contacted by a woman explaining to me that if I told anyone anything regarding the Elven DNA, the presumed Elven DNA, she emphasized, I would be very sorry. To bring it all home, she then paid me well to shut up."  
"So you won't tell us anything?" Narheda said in a slightly disappointed voice.  
"No," Professor Iusa said and paused as she pushed the fruit between thin, painted lips. "I promised not to tell anything. And as a scholar and professor with the affection for the veracity I have never been an avid liar."

"But," Luwan began, disappointment clearly heard in his mellow tenor. However the professor silenced him by lifting a neatly manicured, small hand, indicating that she was not finished with what she desired to say.  
"However I never promised to not hand over anything in written form," she then smirked almost mischievously. "Have you made accommodations for the night?"  
"Um, no," Narheda shook her head.

"There's a hotel nearby, the Rearing Pegasus. A family affair, owned by good friends of mine. They have very good rooms and fair prices, especially now when it's off season. Tomorrow, take the tram across the street. Number 38 is what you want. That one takes 20 minutes to the Tharbad University. Be there at four hours after sunrise and seek out the Institution of Biology and ask for me or for Dr. Angenur Norista. The latter is my assistant and if you get hold on him, he can bypass whatever obstacles may be in the way for getting through to me. I happen to be a very busy woman, but Norista will be informed about your arrival and make sure I get to see you."  
"Thank you, professor," Narheda replied with a smile, pleasantly surprised by the older woman's sudden change of heart.


	7. Valid Proof

**Valid Proof**

When the tram stopped by the University Station, Narheda fostered a slight fear that she and Luwan would be met by a repetition of yesterday's disaster at their own campus. But she forced those worries to the back of her mind as they started off for their objective.

Unlike the Sarmaltar uni's hilly location, the Tharbad equivalent was situated on the riverbanks of Gauathlon, or to be more exact on and around an islet protruding out into the river just south-west of the Northern Old Town. Following professor Iusa Vinidad's directions they found themselves walking down meandering paths of white pebbles and passing by a motley blend of old and new buildings located helter-skelter on the shore side, mingling with impressive old oaks, lark trees and other greenery. There were some open spaces where Narheda could spot students mingling about, but for the most part this place was far much densely arranged than the Sarmaltar university campus.

They passed by a large open air arena with white marble pillars carrying decorative architraves but the 'roof' being nothing more than a few ivy covered iron bars making out a cupola. Soon after that they found themselves facing a large red brick building with a toppy, solar-panel covered roof and high, pointy windows running floor to ceiling and with wrought iron railings. Just like almost every other building on the campus this one was ivy covered. This was the Institution of Biology, where they were to find their hostess.

The large entrance hall lacked reception, and Narheda and Luwan stopped hesitantly and gazed around for a while, before the latter frankly went up to one of the few students hanging around and asked where they could find Professor Iusa Vinidad.  
"Up there, second floor, I believe. That's where she has her office. Or third, no more like second it is, of that I'm almost certain," the blonde, young man said in a singsong Rohan accent. "But forget about the lift, the darn thing has been out of service since the proverbial demise of Sauron," he grinned.  
"Thanks," Luwan said and turned toward the broad staircase at the other end of the hall.

"Hey," the Rohanite halted them. "She won't accept you as doctorates, take my word for it. There's people asking about it like every day, she's quite a sour faced old lady about it. And especially if you're from out of town you know."  
"Thanks, but we're here on another business," Narheda cut the talkative youth off and they started up the majestic granite stairs, worn concave by countless feet. As they ascended she couldn't help admiring the railings made by the in Tharbad so ever-present elaborated iron works, here mimicking spiraling, long-steamed greenery with gracious flowers.

Narheda and Luwan found the professor's demure on the third floor. It was a large corner office, thus it was located at the far side of the building. The door was slightly ajar and it was death silent from the inside, a silence which made Narheda quite worried, taken in mind the latest events. But no, the professor was alive and well. At the gentle tap on the door frame her soft voice was calling out for them to enter.

Their hostess was sitting by a worn, old desk with her nose buried in a large tome, however she looked up as they entered, indicating two chairs, telling them to bring those over to the desk. She then offered heated blackcurrant lemonade from a carafe, but both Narheda and Luwan declined politely.  
"I've been thinking over what the two of you said yesterday," she commenced. "Now, I cannot care less about the orcs, they are cruel, ugly and smelly. But I do care about the Elves. And most of all I care about the truth. I honestly believe that no one should interfere with science, no matter what the motif is. And if it's just about plain greed, then I want to see these people hitting the brick wall. I'll give you what you need to publish the things I believe Dr. Arlig intended to publish. It will be enough to prove that there really was an Elven race once. And – mind you – what became of them."

At the last sentence, Narheda felt her eyes widen and a strange shiver run from her neck and down the spine.  
"What – did become of them?"  
"They became extinct as a unique specie," Iusa stated frankly.  
"We killed the elves, you mean?" Luwan asked.  
"Not in the meaning of performing genocide," Iusa said. "But as the human race expanded we brought with us our viruses and deceases and for them the elves had no protection. They lacked our extensive immune defense. A mere cold could kill an Elf. Then we human simply assimilated the remaining Elves. Their genes are part of our gene pool these days, and that's one of the reasons it's so darn hard to prove that they were not humans. Too many similarities between their and our specie."

"But," Narheda began. "I'm not a biologist, but I know that the general assumption is that the elves and the humans were unable to procreate. So there could be no mixing of our races."  
"That assumption is clearly wrong," Iusa said. "It was hard, but it was not impossible for an Elf and a human to procreate, and the pairings weren't common either. So the hybrids were few and far between. On the other hand they had enough of humanity within them to easily beget children with other humans. So while the Elvenkind dwindled away to nothing, their genetic heritage lived on within our own gene pool. So in a way they are still around."

"How do you know all this?" Luwan asked.  
"You see this book?" Iusa indicated the heavy volume. "It's mostly considered a collection of fairytales, mind you; it's even called 'Tales of Middle Earth'. But with my own research in mind, I can tell that most of what's in here has a background of truth, even if the very characters and events told about might be fictitious."

"What do you then think about the other legendary races?" Luwan asked. "The Dwarves and the..."  
"Too early to say," the professor answered. "But I assume there might be some truth to these stories as well. And perhaps we might one day even find an Istari."  
"A what?" Narheda and Luwan choired, both of them watching as Iusa's face turned mysterious.  
"A Lord of Wisdom. That's the believed title of a rare specimen of near immortal humanoids which were believed to have appeared on Middle Earth in the beginning of the Common Era."

"Immortal?" Narheda swallowed. "I can accept the existence of Elves and Dwarves, perhaps even Hobbits and Satyrs. But immortal, no, that simply cannot be possible."  
"I assume they are not really immortal," Iusa agreed. "But bestowed with an impressive longevity. The stories describes them as 'Old Women and Men' and mention an impressive and waste knowledge of the kind it takes more than a lifetime to acquire. There's the story of Sokora for instance, a woman who knew all there was about medicine, including how to perform advanced surgery. But I digress. We better get down to business, because I have a meeting within half an hour, which I just have to attend to."

The professor's eyes dipped and she reached down and pulled open a drawer in her desk with a muted, scraping sound. She then produced a thick envelope and put it on the desk, before sliding it over towards Narheda and Luwan.  
"Everything you need to know about the elves is in there, including several 3D manipulations of their presumed looks based upon the DNA found in the bones I acquired from Dr. Derlor. This Elven male was a rather handsome man, if I might say so myself. And finally, there's an address to a man I suggest you should look up as soon as possible after your return to Sarmaltar. He might offer you more help, including protection."

Narheda reached out for the envelope, only to hesitate with her hand hovering over the gray covering.  
"But the ones who bribed you?" she asked hesitantly. "What do you think will happen when they find out that you have double crossed them?"  
"Oh, they don't really dare to touch me, even if they should learn that I chose to not honor my part of the agreement," the professor smirked. Then her head nodded to the office wall on her left. There, between the two large windows, was a huge photo of her shaking her hand with a potbellied elderly man with gentle features, wearing an ornate dress uniform. A man, who Narheda recognized as Tanesis CXIV, the King of Cardolan. "It always pays to have friends in high places," she assured.

*o*o*o*

Narheda didn't dare to open the envelope until the morning of the next day when she was safely back within her own office at the Institution of History and Archeology of the University of Sarmaltar. She had told Luwan to come over after lunch, first she wanted a moment in private for having a look at these things. It was after all her future in the scales. The Harnendorite could always find a new biologist to work for and he had his grant to live off. And when that was emptied, he had the choice either to stay in Gondor or return to Harnendor. But this was what she, Narheda, had to save her professional life with. A heap of papers with a content certain people were ready to kill for and some other information which the Cardolanian professor had included as a bonus. Including the address of someone named Keratorion and who lived in Ligo. The mysterious 'helper', Narheda wondered how much truth there could be to that.

She started reading from the very beginning; going over sheet after sheet of paper, not noting that time flew, so interesting was this. Not until there was a tap on her doorframe and Hikarete pushed her dark head through the door frame.  
"Hi there, finally back to normal programming, I can tell," she smiled and Narheda smiled back. It sure felt good to see a familiar face again, a face not that connected to the last few days of insanity.

"Sort of," she replied. "I'm planning my return to the excavation in Rendell. What I fear is going to be my last trip up there," she then added. The last thing was a lie; she didn't want too many people to know what she was up to, since she feared that the institution walls had ears. As a matter of fact she wanted to wait with Rendell until she had laid out her proofs to the public.

"Well, Mokena and I are going for lunch," Hikarete then said. "And I wonder if you would like to join."  
"Why, yes, certainly," Narheda beamed up. She sure could need a break and a normality check. And what would be a better way to get that than to hang with her friends, getting to hear things like who Mokena was dating this week? "Just let me finish a few things here."  
"Of course," Hikarete smiled, and then she glanced at her neckwatch. "I have a few calls to make, but meet us down in the foyer, uh, let's say a quarter from now. Then we can still beat the worst rush."

*o*o*o*

About an hour later, Narheda returned to her office – to find an odd change in the air. It soon became clear that someone had searched through her room. OK, they hadn't turned the place upside-down like in a bad broadcastplay, but someone had definitely been around. First of all there was this notable tang of male perfume pervading the air. Then she began to notice small items not being in their right place and there were obvious signs that someone had picked the lock to her safety box, however the trifling amount of money she kept there was left untouched. No normal thieves evidently.

Naturally she soon understood what it was they had been looking for and she smiled at the thought of having fooled them – for the time being at least, since she had brought professor Iusa's papers with her. She had won this round – but something told her that she would not keep winning forever. At that moment Narheda realized that perhaps it was a good idea to get in touch with this Keratorion of Ligo.


	8. The shade of the Argonaths

**The shade of the Argonaths**

"Mine too," Luwan admitted when Narheda told him that her room had been searched during lunchtime. "Seems like they know we got something with us back from Tharbad. Something they want, or at least consider we should not have."  
"Yes, and I believe it's only a matter of time before they bust us for real," Narheda guessed. "We're still two or three steps ahead of them but they're gaining upon us with every try they might."  
"So what do we do?" Luwan asked as he seemed to brace himself from glancing over his shoulder in the imagined direction of a listening ear.

"Remember how professor Iusa tipped us off about someone who might help us?"  
"Yes," the young man waited for Narheda to go on.  
"Iusa told us that she was protected by the Cardolanian king, Tanesis CXIV. I imagine she considered herself untouchable because of that. And maybe she truly is. Tanesis is not only powerful, having a resourceful administration with tentacles reaching everywhere, he is also said to be extremely supportive of those loyal to him. I believe that our professor wanted to give us what she envisioned to be the same kind of protection. So she gives me this name. Keratorion of Ligo."

"You've been talking to him?"  
"Not yet, I assume we ought to just go there. And perhaps call him on the way."  
"When?"  
"Now."  
"Now?"  
"Yes now. Luwan, if you cannot manage it, I fully understand..."  
"No I don't, uh, I mean I do. In a way. Sorry if I don't make sense right now, but this whole thing scares me shitless. Still, Narheda, I imagine I'm in so deep by now that there's no getting out. If I don't consider the horizontal solution."

"Horizontal solution?" Narheda tried to grasp.  
"That's a Harnendorite paraphrase for being dead," the dark-skinned youth said drily. "I'm not really ready for that one yet. I still want to have a wife and a house. A car and a dog. The two point one kids."

"Makes perfect sense, Luwan. Hence I imagine the best thing we can do is to make it for Ligo and for 39 Ventoris Street. And you'll get the chance to see the armless Argonath up really close, since Ventoris street is just by the statue's hip."  
"How do we get there?"  
"Maglev plus a cableway up the hill."

*o*o*o*

After a ride taking them almost two hours, including several detours to shake presumed shadows, Narheda and Luwan were getting off the cableway at the intersection of the horizontally running Ventoris Street and the serpent road Nysarya which was working itself slowly up the steep mountainside of the part of Sarmaltar called Ligo. This faubourg clung to the steep mountainside in the shade of the Argonaths and overlooked the small sound between the two statues, being located on the western side of it. It wasn't exactly slum, but it was quite run down, with old houses which had once been beautiful, but now, with colours peeling off and broken windows, looked like all loving hands had abandoned them.

Narheda had to admit that this was a place she didn't dare to visit after the fall of darkness. At the same time it did look like at least some of the inhibitors cared. At a small square people had planted flowers in a non-working fountain and she noted an elderly man, who definitely wasn't employed by the city, sweeping the sidewalk with a large broomstick, getting rid of trash and old leaves.

Several times during the trip, had Narheda tried and failed to call the number professor Iusa had given them, nonetheless she didn't despair. Somewhere in the depth of her guts, she alleged this man able to help them. How, she was not sure, he certainly didn't give the impression of a superhuman, not living here and Narheda had no idea how Iusa knew him. The Tharbardian professor didn't seem to be the kind who knew people in the run down areas of Sarmaltar. Then again, she didn't seem to be the type to know kings either. Therefore the archeologist was willing to give this a try and this stranger a tentative trust.

After perhaps five minutes of walking, they were standing outside 39 Ventoris Street. It was a three stories high yellow-painted building with toppy roof and a little tower with crenels in a corner. It held the look of a small castle and it pained Narheda to see that it was in such disrepair, seemingly even worse than the houses around them.

"Someone living here should be able to help us? I mean really?" Luwan echoed her thought, as they made it through a vaulted opening and into a courtyard.  
"It's worth a try," Narheda sighed, but she was beginning to feel doubtful.

However this inner courtyard, hidden behind a rusty iron gate, seemed quite lovely as it was filled with flaunt greenery, roses mostly, but also tulips, pansies and a large orange tree. The gentle singing of water was heard from a wall-mounted fountain in the corner. In the shadow of the orange tree was a deck chair occupied by a black Alsatian which came running towards them as they entered the courtyard, barking loudly.

Blinking rapidly, Narheda took a step backwards, she had never been the biggest fan of large guard dogs, especially not those who were barking and snarling like this, obviously not thrilled with being disturbed in its midday sleep. But Luwan kneeled down; saying some gentle words in an agreeable voice and the dog stopped its ruckus, almost surprised as it turned its large head towards the young man.

"Serek!" a stern voice was heard at the same time and a tall man showed up at a balcony on the second floor, resting his hands at the iron railing as he gazed down at the dog and the two visitors.  
"Serek, behave yourself!" Then he turned to the visitors. "Pardon an old beast, he's a bit too vigilant from time to time, and it seems he has always believed me to be kind of deaf. Thus this intense barking. Now, how may I help the two of you?"

"I'm Narheda of Nihaya," Narheda replied. "The friend with me is Luwan al Magni. And we are looking for a man named Keratorion. We were given the address to this place as where to find him."  
"Keratorion, huh," the man on the balcony responded thoughtfully. "Wasn't yesterday I heard that name the last time."  
"He's not here?" Luwan enquired.

"I'll be right down with you in a moment," came the retort, and then the man ducked inside of the house again. Narheda and Luwan faced each other, the latter shrugging disappointedly. Then Narheda cast a wary look at Serek the dog, who had sat down on the cobblestoned ground and was regarding them intensely with his yellow eyes. Come to think of it, he appeared more like a wolf than an Alsatian, she thought as she looked at the big animal. Or, Narheda scolded herself, most probably it was just her own dog scare manifesting itself.

Their host appeared just moments later, striding across the courtyard with confident yet relaxed gaits. He was tall and athletic built, and perhaps in his mid or late forties, with a mane of thick salt and pepper hair reaching almost down to his shoulders and a trim newgate fringe covering his squared chin. He wore in a thin silk and knee-length, armless burgundy tunic and beneath it loose, black suede pants and sandals.

Holding out his hands, he presented himself:  
"I am Mitikas, how may I be of service?"  
"As I said," Narheda began anew, "Me and Luwan are in search of a man named Keratorion. We got his name from someone who claimed to be a good friend of him. A Cardolanian professor named Iusa Vinidad, who's holding an occupation at the University of Tharbad."

"Professor Iusa Vinidad, so what's her story?" Mitikas nodded his head slowly, and Narheda could see a slightly concealed sparkle of recognition in his hazel eyes. So she settled for the short version of her and Luwan's adventure, starting with her own research and telling about those invisible people who were trying to stop them from revealing the truth about the Elves. Mitikas said very little while Narheda talked, he was content with humming to show that he was following while scratching the head of his dog. Luwan helped along in some parts, filling in and clarifying things Narheda had left out.

When they were done, Mitikas was rubbing his bearded chin while seemingly thinking things over. Then he hinted at the table and the chairs standing in the shade of the orange tree, not far from where the dog had been resting earlier.  
"Come, sit down, milady, gentleman. I believe we're going to need some time to talk. But before that, may I offer you some refreshments? Cider? Wine? Lemonade?"

Both Narheda and Luwan declined the offer and they all sat down, Serek the dog taking his place by the feet of his master and then Mitikas went on.  
"It is true that I know Professor Iusa. Very well as a matter of fact. She and I used to work together back in the twenties. Since then we have been seeing each other now and then, discussing things over. Topics like the moralities of science and research. What is allowed in the name of science, what you can do with a guinea pig for instance. She has always been very accurate with the truth, that people have the right to know. And that she should send you to me that have to count for something. So if I understand this correctly, you want my help with protecting this knowledge regarding the Elves."

"Protecting it and unearthing it," Narheda clarified. "We want the truth about the Elves revealed to all the people out there. Because when it's finally and irrevocably out in the open, then there's nothing that can threaten us anymore. Not to mention I'll get my career back. And I hope that you, Mitikas or Keratorion or whatever your name is, might be able to give us the help Professor Iusa believed you could."

"I will definitely be of aid, as I owe Iusa several times over. Now where do you have this burning hot material? Not locked in another bank safe, I hope?"  
"No, we don't dare. I have it with me," Narheda told.  
"May I see it," their host requested. "And by the way, regarding my name, I am Mitikas, son of Keratorion. But not in the sense that Keratorion is my father. Keratorion is the island where I was born long time ago."

"Never heard of such an island," Luwan said while Narheda handed over her paperwork to Mitikas. It felt odd, but just as with Iusa, she instinctively felt she could trust this man. He seemed reliable. Reliable and durable. The one who didn't run for the hills when the going got a bit tough. Then it mattered less that he didn't exactly live in a posh area.  
"That's because my island of birth is very far away from here and very insignificant," Mitikas explained. "These days at least. Once that place was important enough, but that was so long ago you might not even have heard about it. And it matters less nowadays anyhow."

"Come on," Luwan said. "I'm not that young! Even if I'm still just a post-grad. But that's because..."  
"I'm not talking about your age or your academic status," Mitikas cut the Harnendorite off with a good natured voice. "I was referring to something which matters less in this case, so let the matter rest. Now, I will have a look at this."

With those words, the bearded man picked up a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles from his tunic pocket, posed them upon his slightly crocked nose and began to read through the Elven documents. For a while the only thing heard was the water in the fountain and the chirping of the birds that were populating the trees in the courtyard.


	9. Another soul to save

**Another soul to save**

Some thirty minutes later, Mitikas of Keratorion lowered the papers, picked off his glasses and returned them to their designated pocket before he addressed his visitors again.  
"This colleague of yours, Dr. Traven of Gerentha, what about him? As I understand it, he was the one who initiated the involvement of the biologists Arlig and Iusa in the first place. Is he and his research accounted for in this case?"

Mitikas' question made Narheda blush; she had to admit that she hadn't given Traven a thought. On the other hand, she hadn't met or even heard from him for months, not since they had been discussing the skeletons from the dig, skeletons which they both had believed to be Elven already back then.  
"You're right, I should check upon him," she reached inside her bag for her communicator, but Mitikas laid a hand on her arm.  
"Wait! We don't know if he's in any danger yet. Better not draw attention to the hazard."

"You think they've tapped my com?" Narheda felt herself pale. "Because in that case," involuntarily she cast a glance towards the entrance.  
"No need to worry, if anyone would be coming here, Serek ought to have warned us already." Mitikas patted the large dog affectionally. "Besides, did you ever mention my name or address over the com?"  
"No, you're right," Narheda had to admit with a slight shake of her head. "I'm getting paranoid."  
"That's only natural in your situation," Mitikas said as he stood up. "I'm going to gather some expedient possessions, then we shall get going."

"Where to?" Luwan frowned.  
"To see Dr. Traven of course," Mitikas said. "And we're lucky because it's Fourthday today."  
"Fourthday?" Now it was Narheda's time to frown. "What has the day of the week to do with anything?"  
"It's Speaker's Corner on Broadcast Channel 4. And believe me, if we go on air tonight, then there's nothing to stop us. Or the truth about the Elves. Those who make their living out of their cheap orc labour may have to begin thinking again. Besides I am convinced that it was only a question of time before that commodity drained up, Elves or not."

"What, you feared an orc upheaval here in Gondor?" Luwan asked. "Like the one in Isengard?"  
"No, not really," Mitikas replied. "After all the orc labourers are so suppressed with hard technology here. Tranquillizer collars with radio transmitters, designer drugs, tazers, you name it. They are thoroughly kept under the heavy boot of control. No, what I believe to be the end of the orc slavery is the general man's conscience. For every year more and more people are beginning to question the way orcs are treated. Haven't you too heard the protests, read the letters to the editors of the main newspapers? _Independent Eye_ had an editorial about it just the other week. There have also been bills in the parliament to stop or at least regulate the usage of orc labour. To give the poor things at least some kind of resemblance of a decent life." Mitikas shrugged. "I've never been the one for large gestures, but in this case even I have been prepared to speak up. I have just lacked a good motif. And now I have one."

"And we have a plan, I suppose?" Luwan asked and Mitikas nodded his head.  
"It sounds like we do," Narheda stated.  
"Or we'll work one out on the way at least," Mitikas added before he called for his dog and dashed inside of his house again. Then he stopped on the threshold. "Follow me!" he ordered almost sharply. Narheda and Luwan regarded each other in surprise, their host seemed to have taken the lead of this operation so easily!

But Mitikas didn't invite the duo into his home, instead he picked up a large key and opened a steel door on the opposite side of the hallway they had entered through. Narheda's eyes hadn't adjusted to the dusk inside, so she never really got a look at the room which Mitikas urged them through, before they were on the other side of that door, heading down a flight of stairs and into a second hallway. He produced another key and opened a new steel door, this one led to a small closet though. Then he turned to face the scholars.

"Can any of you handle a gun?" he asked.  
"So-so," Luwan hesitantly admitted while Narheda kept silent, shaking her head.  
"And how well is 'so-so' then?" Mitikas probed further.  
"Well, my aim is adequate, and I know how to load and shoot and manage a recoil. I'm better with the hunter's weapons, though, having downed a few games back home in Harnendor, but I doubt I'd be able to kill or even wound another human being with a firearm."

"That will do," Mitikas replied as he started to bring out weapons and ammunition from the closet. "When push comes to show most people tend to push rather than being showed."  
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Narheda asked.  
"That if it's either you or the other guy, you pull that trigger without thinking too much," came Mitikas' dry answer and Narheda had to admit he was right.

Mitikas handed Luwan a pistol and kept a similar for himself, giving the younger man a quick brief of how it worked. Then he handed over a holster as well, and helped Luwan putting it on.  
"Hopefully we won't be needing these things at all," he said. "But better safe than sorry. And trust me, I've been sorry enough times to not at least try to stay safe."

Narheda felt she wanted to ask Mitikas about that, at the same time she knew very well that now was hardly the time. Instead she took hold of a large toolbar which their new found ally handed her.  
"In here there are some special gadgets, which might be useful," he replied before she even opened her mouth to ask. "Including a scrambler. Means they won't be able to trace us using the signals from our communicators. In case we need to lose pursuers."

"Excellent," Narheda praised. She felt a bit dismayed though, this was happening a bit too fast for her, she hadn't even begun to think of how they should approach Traven of Gerentha. Not to mention trying to get into that broadcast-show. Sure, she knew that Speaker's Corner was an open-for-all arena, but the queues of inclined participants in the airings were often several blocks long, with people lining up for days to get their five minutes of attention. How were they going to get ahead of all of those people? Bribe? And with what money? Finally there was Mitikas himself. He seemed so very odd. A well-phrased, middle aged man living in a rundown house in Ligo with a debonair but slightly peculiar behaviour, and on top of that with access to firearms. How could he have acquired those?

Come to think of it, she had no idea who this man really was save for having a humongous dog and claiming to originate from some distant island. He couldn't be that much older than her, and still he seemed to play his age against them, and to show off tidbits of ideas and knowledge which shouldn't really be there. How did he know Iusa for instance? No, something was peculiar about this man. Nothing she could put a distinct finger upon, but it was the little things that grated at the back of her brain. Things Mitikas had been voicing during their conversation.

Nevertheless, she knew she hadn't much other choice than to follow through with this operation, and try to do her part in making it successful. So she hitched up Mitikas' bag on her shoulder and followed him through another door, which opened up into a large garage with several vehicles in, including a motorbike which would have made her Darik green with envy. But it was naturally not that one they were heading for, but for a sleek, black Javelin with golden swirls painted on the sides, a gilded grille and wheels running on purple-rimmed tyres. A splendor of a vehicle, a king among sports cars.

Mitikas opened up the Javelin with a remote and welcomed them inside. Perhaps not all bad, Narheda thought as she jumped into the passenger's seat and buckled up, the somewhat trailing Luwan having to be content with the back seat. She had always wished to ride a car like this. As Mitikas tapped in his access code and the engine kicked in, the automatic door to the garage slid open and smoothly the vehicle rolled out in the street outside.

This was not Ventoris Street, but a narrower side alley, which seemed to be serving only Mitikas' building and three or four more. Mitikas brought the car in the opposite direction from Ventoris and out on another street and then he took them through the labyrinthine streets of Ligo and up on the Anisti Drive, one of the urban quickways crossing Sarmaltar, partly above the regular streets and partly down in tunnels. Narheda had to admit that she was impressed with the smooth and fast acceleration. The car was soon making 200 trots-per-hour, she could tell by glancing over at the meter, but she hardly felt the speed. Not to mentioning hearing it, since the vehicle was completely fusion powered.

"Where are we going?" Luwan wanted to know. "It seems like you're returning to the university."  
"Yes, we have to pick up your colleague Traven," Mitikas said.  
"You think he might be in danger?" Narheda asked as she gazed through the darkened window at all the other vehicles which they passed by on the eight-lined quickway. Reality was threatening to overtake her again, still she couldn't help enjoying this ride.  
"I'm not sure. Dr. Traven seems to be a kind of sensationalist, perhaps your enemies have simply let him be because of that."

"You mean they see him not as a threat? Unlike us that is?" Narheda glanced sideways at Mitikas, who wasn't taking his eyes off the traffic as he replied.  
"No, as a matter of fact I suppose that just because he is something of a sensationalist they have decided against touching him. Because if they did, it would become obvious that there was more to what Traven was saying than just tabloid chit-chat. However one can never be sure, that's why I believe it's necessary to get to your colleague as fast as possible."

0O0O0

Traven had his office at Nysarya Lane, a bit outside the regular Campus area. Mitikas' Javelin came to a halt outside the large and non-descript concrete-and-glass building and the trio were out the vehicle and inside the building within moments.  
"Let me talk to Traven," Narheda asked as they crossed the unmanned lobby and walked up to the elevators, Narheda and Luwan's university ID's letting them all in through the automatic gates. "He can be a bit, well, peculiar sometimes."

"You're welcome to address him accordingly," Mitikas bowed slightly in her direction while she pushed the elevator button, calling down the coach. With a chime the pair of doors slid open, showing the narrow compartment of their ride up.  
"You think he's there?" Luwan asked. "You think he'll listen?"  
"To both questions I answer 'I hope so'," Narheda admitted and pressed the button number three. The doors slid closed and the elevator started to ascend.

Seconds later the elevator stopped, the doors opened and admitted them out in a hallway with an office space behind glass doors. One of those was smashed, a spider web of green spikes meandering outwards from an impact spot roughly in the middle of the glass.  
"What can have happened here?" Mitikas asked, sounding more bemused than worried.  
"Beats me," Narheda replied and then she tried the doorbell next to the smashed window. Beneath that one, there was a brass tablet reading 'Section of biology' in blocky capital letters.

When there seemed to be no response to her call, Narheda pushed the button again and when still nothing happened, she tried the door. It was open, which surprised her, and she let herself and the men inside. An eerie feeling that they were late overcame her as they walked down the death silent office landscape, their feet barely making a sound against the worn broadloom. The sun was filtered in between closed blinds covering dirty windows and the place felt oddly abandoned for a mid-week afternoon.

"Traven?" Narheda called out questioningly. The only reply she got was from the gulls outside. She tried her colleague's name again as she lead the other two towards a solitary office at the end of the landscape and with the door partly open. Once again she got that same unnerving feeling as she had got when Dr Arlig's office had gone up in flames. The feeling that the enemies had gained upon them in the game once more.

Luwan was reaching for his gun, but Mitikas laid a hand on his arm.  
"No need for these things now. If there was someone here wanting to shoot at us, she or he would've done so already."  
"But what if there are some of the bad guys here?"  
"Then they are probably hiding in one closet or another, holding their breath and wishing we won't smell them."

Mitikas sounded almost as if he was joking and it annoyed Narheda a bit, as she was taken by the seriousness of the situation. But she kept her mouth shut and led the way down towards the office she knew belonged to Traven. When reaching the slightly ajar door, she pushed it fully open, and then she stopped by the threshold, inhaling with shock, as she faced the woman sitting calmly in a tilted back office chair with her high-booted feet propped upon the desk, buffing her nails and with a superior smirk plastered across her face.  
"You!" Narheda exclaimed in consternation. "What are you doing here? Where's Traven?"


	10. When the going gets tough

**When the going gets tough**

"He's not here, that's all you need to know, Narheda," Hikarete responded coolly.  
"No, I think need I know a bit more," the historian shot back, quickly gathering her wits. "It's rather important that I get to see Traven and exchange a few words with him."  
"Then let's make a li'l trade," Hikarete suggested as her eyes danced over the faces of Luwan and Mitikas before dismissing them as being of less importance. Removing her feet from the desk surface she slammed them to the floor and stood. "Give me this so called Elven proof, and you'll get Traven back." She held out her right hand, fluttering impatiently with her long fingers.

Now it dawned upon Narheda that they had been set up. This was a trap, their opponents had lured out all the people from this office complex so they could safely trick in her and the men here and have them all in a neat little box. That was why the place had been so strangely empty. And Hikarete was involved in this. Hikarete, whom Narheda had thought a colleague and a friend. Well, Narheda was not going to make it easy for them!

"My my my," she shook her head while boring her eyes into Hikarete. "The girl has joined the bad guys. Thinking that makes her cool enough to goof off in a colleague's office space, ruining his desk with her dirty boots."  
"What makes you think that you are the good guys?" Hikarete shot back.  
"We don't blast other people's laboratories, killing them in the process. Or trying to kill others in the traffic, ripping a poor taxi driver prematurely from the world. I believe these things make quite the difference between good and bad."  
"And I should do that, you mean?"  
"You or your collaborators. Who else could it be?"

"Why do you people want the Elven documents?" Luwan cut in. "Why do you want to put a lid on the fact that the Elves have once existed? Is it the orc problem? Or is there something else? Worth murdering for?"  
"Young man," Hikarete interrupted. "You're not exactly in a position to cross-examine me or anyone else for that matter. Now, give me the Elven documents and I'll let you have Traven in return. I can guarantee that he's well, however a bit – shall I say – damped for the time being."

"Hikarete, please see reason!" Narheda tried. "You're not the one to hang with arsonists, murderers and kidnappers. You're far too smart for that. Besides, we might have one copy of the Elven documents, but there are several more scattered around Sarmaltar by now, some of them being mailed to the major newspapers and broadcasters as we speak."

The last thing was a lie, and Narheda was not exactly good at lying. However she hoped she could fool Hikarete. After all, mailing the documents would be a plausible thing to do, and they would have done it, had they only felt they had enough time. But the enemies had been breathing down their necks all the time, and now it appeared as if she and the men had run a full circle and the one they were running from had turned around and met them face to face instead.

Narheda had barely finished her thoughts when they heard a door crash open on the other side of the empty office landscape followed by the tinkling sound of glass shattering. Probably that was the broken window going for real. These noises were followed by hasting footsteps coming towards them and before any of the others had the time to react, Mitikas was spinning around facing the door.

The next moment four people busted in through the door, led by a small, intense woman with a mane of blue hair. Then followed a short standoff.  
"Sarigiana!" Mitikas exhaled.  
"So we meet again, old mage," the blue-haired woman returned, her shrill voice scornful, making it obvious she and Mitikas had a shared history of some kind. "Never thought I'd be so lucky when I accepted this seemingly boring mission."

"I made myself a promise to kill you," Mitikas went on, his deep tenor oddly held together.  
"Please, feel free to try," Sarigiana bowed but her flint-gray eyes never left Mitikas' and Narheda shivered as she got the feeling that many who'd opposed this woman had found themselves at the mercy of that look. Still Narheda almost groined at the theatrics. They all had to be out of here like yesterday, that much was obvious.

But instead of attacking her, Mitikas turned slightly away from Sarigiana and launched a vicious kick which hit one of the three men behind her. The blow took the huge, orc-like man completely by surprise; he bounced off the wall and dropped to the floor, groaning. Mitikas was on him in a flash, giving him two pouches in the face, before he reached inside of his dark-brown leather cloak and eased out a pistol from a holster under his arm. At the same time, the two other thugs were attacking Luwan and Narheda. Quickly, Mitikas transferred the pistol into his shooting hand and took aim with the intent of incapacitating at least one of the other grunts, only to find that his new found weapon was unloaded.

The next instance he felt rather than saw Sarigiana attacking him. He expected the blow to come, but when it hit he was shocked by the sheer force of it. Nevertheless Mitikas moved rapidly like a flowing stream, shaking the stars from his vision. He felt confident he could take his foe on, but the blue haired lady delivered another powerful blow to his chest and he fell to the floor. She moved in quickly and stamped down on his ribs, but he was rolling as the blow hit, attempting to put himself between her and the rest of their opponents. In the corner of his eyes, he saw that Hikarete had drawn a gun and was aiming it at him.

"He's mine, Hikarete!" Sarigiana shouted, her voice high and reedy. A four inch dart thudded into the carpet next to Mitikas' tight and he realized that he had grossly underestimated his old enemy. She seemed to have learned a few things since their last encounter. This was one woman who could give him an honest fight and he reckoned that any lengthier battle between them could end in death – and he honestly wasn't sure which of them it would be.

Thus he knew he had to take her out quickly. Jumping back on his feet, Mitikas lashed out at Hikarete and caught her with the second attempt, hitting her in the temple with the gun, watching the woman stumbling and falling back, incapacitated for a short while. Then he attacked Sarigiana again, but she caught his arm and flung him across the room, and he caught the desk, watching it almost tip and utensils falling all over. Meanwhile, the orc-like grunt had recovered fast and was now closing in by Sarigiana's side.

Luwan faced a stout, pale-skinned man with cropped blond hair whose high kick caught the former in the ribs as he fired out his hands to lock them around Luwan's throat. The grip was viselike and Harnendorite felt powerless against it. But the man lost focus as that woman Sarigiana called out next to him and with one almighty push Luwan twisted and threw his opponent hard against the wall. Luwan dropped his weight and brought his feet up, so he flipped the pale foe over, silently thanking his uncle Versent, who had taught him one or two things about fighting.

The blond man struggled to get up, the blood from his shattered nose spraying into his eyes, his face turning into a mask of blood. In an instant he charged again and dived at Luwan, who deftly sidestepped the pale man's lunge and placed a knee in his chin, more a lucky strike than anything else, but the man was down for ten.

Mitikas hardly grunted at the impact with the desk, but launched himself into the next attack, this time flooring the orc-like with a quick roundhouse. This left Sarigiana, who was now stepping in front of him and lashing out in three quick blows. However Mitikas was weaving with the blows, he fired back with a jab which impacted with Sarigiana's cheek. With an outcry of pain, she staggered back, her hands involuntarily flew to the blood which began dripping into her mouth.

Meanwhile the third man attacked Narheda, but she ducked and his hand impacted with the wall instead. Then she stepped to the side and moved in behind Traven's desk, pulling his office chair in the way of her opponent. The next moment she saw something flashing in the pale sunlight seeping in through the blinds and she noted that he was armed with a curved dagger. But he never got the chance to use it, as he launched himself upon Narheda, Luwan suddenly rose behind him, plucking a bronze paper weight from the desk, smashing him hard in the head with it.

The man with the knife staggered, but didn't fall. Instead he turned around, but this time it became Narheda's turn. She armed herself with a huge tome from Traven's desk and with all her might she slammed it in the head of the man with the knife. And a second blow to the head in so many seconds downed even him, he fell across the office chair, tipping it over himself in the fall. Narheda turned the volume over, it held the clunky but oddly fitting title 'Brain damages caused by physical impact'.

"This way!" Luwan was breathing in her ear, opening up a second door to the office. Narheda had seen that door earlier, and always assumed it lead to a closet of some kind. It didn't, it was an opening to a short hallway which lead into a shaft with back stairs.

Seeing two of their adversaries, the most important, getting away, Sarigiana frantically turned to Hikarete and the remaining thugs.  
"Take them!" she shouted and they drew their weapons, but Mitikas had already pulled one of his own guns, he aimed and shot the orc-like foe in his leg while Hikarete and the albino man charged after the two scholars.

Blocking Sarigiana's punch with his other arm Mitikas aimed a kick to her midriff and the blue-haired woman fell to the floor but she swiftly rolled to the side and Mitikas remembered how really skilled she was at these foreign ways of fighting with just the bare hands and feet. He was uncertain if he could win this now, but he could at least try to do his best and attempt to buy the scientists some time.

Before he got the chance to use his gun again, Sarigiana stepped in and hit Mitikas hard on the side of his head. Mitikas slid down the wall, dropping his gun. As she reached for her enemy, the smirk returned to the blue haired woman's face. Mitikas opened his eyes, noting that their faces were just inches apart, and then that Sarigiana was raising her other hand, this time with a dagger. Mitikas flicked out his arm and caught Sarigiana square on the nose, she howled in pain and grabbed his collar. They fell across the floor and rolled over.

Mitikas ended the move on his back, hearing how Sarigiana growled and screamed like an animal, but he had got his hands against her and began forcing her head back. She rolled and used the moment to gain momentum. Getting to his knees he hit her with an uppercut, then he was on his feet, his head clearing fast, and he turned towards the door where Narheda and Luwan had run out.

However, Sarigiana attacked again, she got a good hold and was forcing Mitikas' head against the wall but he managed to get his fingers into her throat and squeezed and forced her back across the floor. Now he felt that he had the advantage at last, but Sarigiana was blocking the exit, still wielding that dagger. Lashing out, she forced Mitikas back toward the far corner, and he made a face when feeling the rough wall rubbing against his back.  
"What's wrong, old chap?" the woman scorned. "You don't like a moving target?"

Mitikas scrabbled for purchase against the rough surface, then he hit Sarigiana in the armpit. She winced and he seized the opportunity. He turned her around and threw her against the wall, smashing her into a framed photography and when she bounced off, he caught her with his forearm. As she struggled for balance he shoved her once more against the wall and she dropped her knife. Mitikas was not late with kicking that one away while he felt inside his pocket for his second pistol. But as he brought it out, she smashed it from his grip, the weapon flew across the room and hit the other wall with a mute thud. As if that wasn't enough, he saw that the orc-like man was crawling slowly in that direction, reaching for it.

Mitikas cursed and with his attention divided Sarigiana had got her hard little fingers into his neck and was cutting off his blood supply. Only seconds remained before he would have to yield, his arm began to drop and he could feel the strength seeping.

*o*o*o*o*o*

While Narheda and Luwan dashed down the corridor they heard guns fire, the bullets sliced through the corridor, just inches from Narheda's head before they embedded themselves in the corridor wall, sending mortar and dust in all directions just when she and the young Harnendorite rounded the corner. A few more gun shots followed, and Luwan dived forward, grabbing his own gun. Spinning around, he fired at the corner forcing back the albino thug who had just peered around.

At the same time Narheda pulled up a glass door and they arrived out in a hall with a spiraling emergency staircase. Not hesitating a second, they started down the steps, two at a time.  
"What if there are more bad guys down there?" Luwan asked, his breath on top of the lungs.  
"We don't know that," Narheda answered. "What we do know is that we're running from those behind us."  
"Mitikas?"  
"Somehow I think he'll manage," she said as more bullets started echoing through the shaft. But the spiraling iron stairs provided them with some security; the bullets pinged off the railings and ricocheted away in harmless directions, one hitting glass somewhere with a crash.

As they reached the landing below, Narheda made a fast decision and pulled a door open, dragging Luwan inside of it with her and then she pushed it close – in the very last moment. She took two more unsteady steps into the dark, dust smelling room and then collapsed against the wall, feeling as if her heart was going to explode in the chest. This was so totally insane, she could hardly believe it was happening!

Outside they heard Hikarete and her albino wet worker continue their race down the stairs. She and Luwan had made it for now, by the skin of their teeth!  
"Suckers!" she whispered with a grin.  
"Now what?" Luwan asked.  
"We'll find another way out. One hopefully not infested with badasses."


	11. The tough gets going

**The tough gets going**

Bracing against the inky blackness that was beginning to seep in at the corners of his eyes, Mitikas threw his head backwards and was rewarded with a shrill yell of agony as the back of his scull hit the face of Sarigiana. She lost her grip around him and he spun around, catching the small time window she was out of balance and grabbed her right arm. Quickly folding forwards, he tipped her body over him in a wide angle and hurled her into the wall. He heard a horrid smack and the breaking of bones as Sarigiana hit the concrete, still he felt no remorse, that woman wouldn't have hesitated a second to kill him, she sure had tried that more than once before. As a matter of fact, Mitikas had done the same, several times, although always to his dismay failing.

Gripping her collars he crashed her head once more against the wall, that was all he had the time for now. He was doubhtful this would kill Sarigiana, however she was incapacitated for the time being.

Instead was he now seeing a hulking shadow in the corner of his eye. It was the orc-like thug back on his feet and only two paces away, having retrieved Mitikas' pistol. The gun shot he had received earlier seemed to bothering him very little, no matter that his light green pantyhose leg was discoloured with blood. Thinking fast, Mitikas caught the wrist of the larger man and twisted his hand. The weapon went off and the bullet hit the wall before ricocheting and blasting through the window in a crackling rain of glass and plastic splinters of what had been the blinds. Now armed, Mitikas shot the grunt remorselessly in the head. Stepping backward he raised his gun against Sarigiana – before realizing he had made that mistake earlier. Bullets did not bite on someone like her.

Instead he turned around and set off to find the escape the two scholars had used. Mitikas crashed through the glass door and raced down the stairs. The place bore the obvious sign of people having fired off guns, the reek of powder still notable in the air. Now silence rested in the shaft and he knew in an instance that the scholars had shaken their pursuers. However he could do better than these badasses.

=o=o=

Meanwhile Narheda and Luwan were rapidly advancing down a long corridor, not surprised anymore to find it totally empty. Narheda had come to the understanding that their foes must have triggered some kind of hazard alarm to evacuate the building, emptying it of all the people inside including of course her colleague Traven. All to lure her, Luwan and Mitikas in a trap. Now, the man they had planned to visit was probably somewhere else. She also imagined the building to be surrounded, these people didn't seem to stop for nothing – including murder.

Pulling up another door, they found a new staircase, a red arrow pointing them downwards with the word 'garage' written below. Not hesitating a second, she and Luwan continued down.  
"Let's steal a car," Luwan suggested as they stopped by a third door. Narheda felt the door handler and then she cursed out loud.  
"I don't friggin' know how to steal a car," she scoffed. "I don't do things like that! Besides, we're not getting in here. There's a card reader, and we don't have..."  
"Move it," Luwan cut her off and as she complied, he raised his gun and fired a bullet right through the lock. Then he landed a kick to the lock and the door flew open, crashing against the concrete wall it was hinged into.

"After you, milady" he held out his hand and frowning she stepped trough. "I can steal cars too," he added with a smirk.  
"You seem to have some peculiar hidden talents for a post-grad," Narheda stated, glancing at the younger man before she returned her attention to the murk of the entrance to the underground garage. It was a fairly large place, not unexpectedly in stark, gray concrete and a bit less than half filled with parked vehicles.  
"A guy's gotta know his way around," Luwan replied, and left it at that.

Jogging slowly, they made it across the floor of the garage and stopped somewhere in the middle. There were a few cars parked around, and Luwan glanced about, clearly looking for something to grab. This was just getting worse and worse, Narheda thought. She was starting to feel rather sick by now – the odds seemed quite unfavorable for her and the young man. And now they were about to become car thieves on top of everything. But she forced back the despair. Giving in to that would be the stupiest thing to do. If anything she owed it to the late Dr. Arlig to go on.

"The TTC," Luwan cut off her thoughts, indicating a cerulean coloured vehicle parked by the opposite wall. The car was rather old and sprinkled with rust, adorned with a large bump in the rear end and having one of its lights mended with duct tape. Narheda made a face at the ride. "Narheda! Quickly over here!" Luwan urged her.  
"Couldn't you have picked anything more fancy," she muttered cynically between her teeth, but the young Harendorite just chuckled.  
"The TTC's are a piece of cake to steal, especially the older ones. A baby could steal a TTC, on top of that I imagine that this owner haven't even bothered with an alarm, since this piece of junk is so utterly unattractive."

"I can't conceive her or him appreciating to get it stolen anyway," Narheda snorted when she obediently began following Luwan towards the homely old car.  
"No, and I don't appreciate getting a bullet in my head," Luwan returned, and she had to admit that he had a point.

Then he bent down and started to fidget with his left both. Amused, Narheda looked on, seeing him removing a buckle. Bending it slightly, he then pressed it into the lock and began trying to unlock it. Narheda felt as if the scraping noise he was making was echoing loudly in the large room and she had quite a few doubhts that it would work, but after about a minute's fidgeting there was a silent click and Luwan could press the handler and open up the door.  
"Once again, you're surprising me," she said.  
"Now, let's blast out of this place, accellerator glued to the floor and we can perhaps outride the bad guys."

"Smooth," a voice was suddenly saying behind them. "However if you'd rather ride something with more class, I imagine I could provide."  
"Mitikas?" both of them spun around, just as Luwan had started to climb inside of the vehicle.  
"The very one."  
"But how?"  
"No time for that now, we better get out of here, before our foes are returning inside again."

"You think they will?" Narheda asked.  
"I know they will," the older man replied smugly and Narheda made a face. "A little trick of mine, but I will tell you later about that one too. Now, let's go!"  
"But," Luwan hesitated, making a gesture towards the TTC.  
"We have no need for that one, the Javelin is just outside of here and we can run for it the very moment the bad guys decided to move inside again."

"And when should that be?" Luwan asked doubhtfully, once again, glancing over at the car he had opened up. Mitikas leaned over and sinply closed the car door, just as a deep sound reverberated trough the building.  
"Now," Mitikas pointed out rather needlessly. "That should be some kind of smoke grenade, I assume."

The next moment the three of them were running towards and trough an emergency exit and up the path to the street outside. Unexpectedly, there was nobody right outside and bravely they dashed round a corner and came out in the main street, running down the sidewalk as Narheda was fearing to feel a bullet embed itself in her back at any minute. But the street was populated with quite a number of people minding their own business and the only thing greeting them were some angry calls when they cut out in front of other pedestrians.

Only seconds later, Mitikas was opening up the doors to his car and they were all leaping inside, buckling up as he started the engine, turned out from the parking spot and made a sharp u-turn to get them away from the surroundings as fast as possible.  
"So now what?" Luwan asked as they advanced down the street, rapidly but not irregularely so, to avoid retrieving attention.  
"Speaker's Corner, I suggest," Narheda answered. "A least if our original plan should be anything to go by."

=o=o=

Rushing out in the street, trailed by Hikarete and some of her people, Sarigiana noted with frustration that the trio they were persuing was nowhere to be seen. The next moment came the unmistakable sound of a car accellerating down the street in the opposite direction.  
"I'm not gonna lose them! Not this time!" With these words she dashed across the street.  
"Wait," Hikarete called, but the other woman didn't hear, or pretended to not hear as she dived almost head first into her own vehicle, a sleek emerald and navy coloured Silverhawk 5000DX. "Damn! The bitch is turning this into her private vendetta," Hikarete murmured as she watched the Silverhawk taking up the pursuit.

The accelleration pushed Sarigiana back into her seat, and the four point seatbelts held her firmly as her Silverhawk kicked in with screaming tyres. They were not going to get away! She was going to finish this work and she was going to finish that pain in the ass Mitikas, who always seemed to be ready to spoil her plans wherever she went, as if he was navigating using some eight sense. Which shouldn't really surprise her, given who this man was. Still the very thought of it made her want to scream out loud, where she sat in the car seat, her glowed hands clutching the wheel so hard she could feel her knuckles go white.

She was going to get the freak this time, she swore. Once and for all!

Daylight was fading fast and the bright lights in the street and other vehicles glared into her eyes. The Javelin was about 50 spears in front of her and she overtook two cars in quick succession, but was then forced to brake as the next vehicle decide to turn without warning. Sarigiana gunned the engine, looking up she saw the Javelin make a left turn. Edging closer to the turning, she zipped across in front of a small lorry which blasted its horn in disapproval.

The display bleeped red and the SatNav system told her to 'turn around at the first opportunity', the velvety tenor sounding slightly sensual, a male voice Sarigiana had picked once while being in a better mode. Now the machine's faux sensuality only managed to irritate her.

Sarigiana hit the brakes, the Silverhawk did a 360 turn and barely avoided an oncoming car. She weaved through the oncoming traffic and streaked down the tree-lined main street in pursuit of the Javelin. They were now going east through the Elishar district and heading for the river.

=o=o=

Narheda looked behind as the sound of honking horns and cars braking to a halt became more frequent.  
"Mitikas I think we have a tail!" Checking the rear view mirror, Mitikas noted the Silverhawk approaching fast.  
"Yes, a beautiful peacock one," he jeered as he squeezed the accellerator ever so gently, the nimble vehicle responding quickly.

Sarigiana flicked the infra-red targeting switch and smiled vickedly when she heard the steady pitch confirming that she had a lock on the Javelin. First Sarigiana used the built in Supera machine guns, she wanted to disable the car and take Mitikas out man to man. The darn schoolars she would have to deal with later. Or not, she could leave those to that scrawny intellectual Hikarete something.

The rounds hit the road, splintering up asphalt where they impacted and the guns changed their trajectory when the tracer rounds got closer to the back of the Javelin. In his mirror, Mitikas saw the tracers and swung the Javelin across the road, however Sarigiana followed across the orange line and the bullets ripped into a car stationary at the road side. She took her thumb off the trigger and changed direction. The lock on was still beeping so she decided to swallow her pride and use the heat seeking missiles. The process unit confirmed the contact address and Sarigiana hit the fire button. The missile rocketed away, the recoil force buffeted the Silverhawk which swerved so insanely that she had to fight to keep control of her car as it fishtailed up the road.

"They're shooting at us!" Luwan called out from his place in the backseat.  
"Do they now?" Mitikas grinned. His finger prodded the defense panel and a flair launched itself from the rear diffuser area, the phosphorous ball reached a height of sixteen spears before the missile smashed into it. The explosion rocked the high rise buildings lining the street, and a thousand windows shattered, the glass shards cascaded on to the street below and sprinkled all over.

"Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea," Sarigiana muttered between clamped teeth while slamming her foot on the brake and the Silverhawk skewed around another corner in its pursue of the Javelin. Smiling cruelly, she slid the safety off another machine gun, allowing it to be manoeuvred.

The Javelin zoomed down a long stretch of road accelerating to over one hundred trots-per-hour. Sarigiana also accelerated and when Mitikas slammed the brakes on to negotiate another bend, she almost lost him, but she managed to tag along at the very last moment, screaming tyres burning asphalt. Now Sarigiana fired, the guns burped and the heavy calibre shells streaked away. Mitikas swiftly dodged the fire by whipping the Javelin round another sharp corner. Narheda screamed and looked at Mitikas for some support, his face was a mask of concentration, his hand hovering over the defense panel again, and now a wicked smile crossed his face. Narheda couldn't tell which look frightened her the most.  
"Hang on, guys!" Mitikas called out before he started to press certain buttons on his dashboard.

The next moment, the pursuing Sarigiana had to drive wildly to dodge the time-delayed mines laid out by the Javelin ahead. The explosions rocked the city streets and the orange balls of flame lit the early evening sky with a deadly consequence. Now, Mitikas wanted to haul the Silverhawk in closer to allow him to drop more mines. Their pursuer in turn was pleased that her car was keeping its pace close on Mitikas', imitating the Javelin's every move as they encountered more slow moving traffic. Soon she would have him! Soon soon!

Sarigiana accelerated and tapped the back of the Javelin. It spun and Mitikas fought with the wheel to regain control before he floored the accelerator and sped away. Once again he allowed his pursuer to catch him - and when he felt he was locked in he began to smoothly increase his speed. Not far now, he glanced at his watch, not long now. Dropping a gear, Mitikas made another sharp turn, making the Javelin screaming into Equinox Street, the streetsigns being just a blur as they sped past. Sarigiana didn't even notice the information which stated Central Ferry Piers 3 and 4 ahead, she was too preoccupied with hunting her black and golden prey.

As Mitikas pressed his foot down, Narheda turned to look at him in absolute horror. There was that insane smile again. The ferry for the other side of the Anduin had already left the pier and was well under steam. The Javelin rocketed off the dock to the chorus of Narheda and Luwan's screams, and then they soared through the ever increasing gap between pier and ferry. With its targeting software locked in, Sarigiana's car followed less than five spears behind, its control software imitated the speed increase. Mitikas, Luwan and Narheda held their breath as the Javelin flew over the end of the pier.

Narheda screamed as the Javelin smashed through the wooden safety barrier at the back of the ferry, splintering it into a thousand pieces. As she craned her neck and watched, the Silverhawk leapt the gap behind them, but the heavy artillery pushed the nose down and the car hit the water and cartwheeled once before settling. Sarigiana winded and struggled to release the safety belt in her rapidly sinking killer-car while the Javelin trio stepped out of their ride.

"Too bad, she missed the boat," Mitikas smirked as he watched the sinking Silverhawk, the green water of the river bubbling around it. He held no doubht that his die-hard old foe would make it out of the vehichle, however he and his allied had gotten away from her this time. Off in the distance they could hear the expected sirens of police vehicles.  
"Two new cars in the Anduin within nearly as many days," Luwan pondered. "With that speed, there'll be an artificial island of used cars blocking the flow of the water soon."


	12. The Istari

**The Istari**

Narheda stood back, letting Mitikas deal with the enraged ferry personnel, who were yelling about their destroyed vessel. The older man did that with a thick bundle of cash money he placed in the hand of the portly man with the largest number of stripes on his jacket. The captain.  
"That should cover it, I assume," Mitikas said gently and at the sight of the colourful plastic squares, the captain shut up as if someone had put a cork in his mouth. An almost funny experience, and in spite of everything, Narheda felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips at the scene.

"You always do that?" she asked of Mitikas when he returned to her and Luwan by the car. "Either shoot yourself trough or pay yourself through a dilemma? That sounds like a very expensive and hazardous way to go through life if you ask me."  
"Yes, but more fun," the bearded man grinned before he turned serious. "However I know it's far from a regular way to manage your life these days. And no, I normally don't do it this way, however extraordinary circumstances like these demand extraordinary solutions. Therefore I guess I owe the two of you a bit of an explanation of my motif and to my extensive resources both when it comes to weaponry and money."  
"To say the least, man," Luwan huffed as he folded up the collars of his jacket and churned his hands down his pockets since the spring breeze blowing across the river had turned chilly as the night closed in.

Mitikas turned his head and glanced down the waters towards the mighty Argonaths, this time of the day bathed in floodlight. Then he commenced.  
"This trip takes about twenty minutes, so I should get time for the lengthier explanation. You might have guessed already, that I'm not only in this for altruistic reasons. As a matter of fact, I'm one of those who would make a large chunk of money if orc labour should become more expensive and less available."  
"And why is that?" Luwan asked. He too was having his eyes glued to the Argonaths now, understandable since they were a remarkable sight. Even Narheda herself, who had seen them more or less her whole life was still impressed every time she saw them lit up like this. Impressed and proud.

"Because I'm a scientist too – in my own way. An inventor. That's how I know Professor Iusa Vinidad. She and I have been working together on a project called 'the automatic man' or shortened The Automan. A cybernetic worker made out of plastics and composites, and bestowed with an artificial brain. Her contribution was the research regarding how biological intelligence may be mimicked by artificial means."  
"I've read about this," Narheda affirmed. "My fiance Darik subscribes to those magazines about advanced infomates and artificial brains and such novelties. They keep writing quite a bit about those tries at building artificial men. A bit of speculative science in my opinion, this AB business, then again I imagine that if someone will find a way to make an economic turnaround on these things, they might be built."

"AB?" Luwan asked.  
"As in Artificial Brain," Narheda explained.  
"Yes, and with the orcs out of the way, there'll sure be money in the AB business," Mitikas added. "And of course less money for those who are managing and deploying the orcs. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that they are doing what they can to stop us."  
"So you're an engineer," Luwan said, taking his eyes off the lit statues. "I imagine you have someone behind you, to sponsor your research. Not to mention all the things you showed off with here today."  
"No, the only one behind me is myself and my own accumulated wealth."

"Huh, inherited money then, I take it?" Narheda guessed.  
"Not exactly. You see, I'm a very old man, way older than what my physical appearance might give away to an untrained eye. As a matter of fact my age in real years is a bit more than 4500 ones, however my biological age is that of a well-kept 45 year old. And if I don't get myself killed by Sarigiana or some of her ilk, I might well live to see my 10 000th birthday."

"That would make you a..." Narheda hesitated in awe as she raised her finger to point at the man standing opposite of her. "A... uh, an Istari."  
"Yes, that's what we're generally called by the common population," Mitikas said. "Or were, when the knowledge of our existence was more common. Conversely we have many names for our kind. Like Quenya, Ithryn, Mayari or simply Sophians. Today not many of us are left, some have been killed, others died for other reasons and others in turn have left Middle Earth altogether. Among us still left on the planet, I guess we number to about fifteen or eighteen. Twenty the maximum. However I haven't heard from any of my brothers and sisters in centuries. In fact, the last time I met another Istari was about 300 years ago, during the Chelkarian Revolution."

As Mitikas finished there was a pause and the only thing heard for a while was the gush of water against the side of the ferry and the muted talks of the other passengers. Most of them had quit staring at Narheda and her friends now and gone back to minding their own business. This was Sarmaltar after all, where people's 'being-impressed-span' was rather short since they had seen it all already - or at least pretended they had.

"That explains a few things," Luwan finally said matter of factly. He seemed quite a bit lesser awed than Narheda by the fact that he was standing before a real life Istari. "Or rather, that explains a lot, including how you managed to take down all those people in Traven's office and also how to find us down in the garage. I mean we just smashed the head of that thug with the dagger and then ran for it. You did all the rest. Call me impressed!"  
"So you're helping us because of your Automen?" Narheda asked. "But what do you need us for? Can't you just...? I mean, if you've been working with Professor Iusa, you ought to already have all the proofs needed when it comes to the existence of the Elven race?"

"Not exactly," the Istari admitted and scratched his beard. "What Iusa and I have are theories. Thoughts and speculations. No valid testimonies that the elves were real, living, breathing and walking the ground of Middle Earth. For proofs like that we would need people like you. People who could actually locate and present real evidence of species with human and humanoid DNA. Hard facts."  
"Like our skeletons?" Narheda asked and Mitikas nodded his head.

"Head on spot. Proofs which even the man in the street may believe in. Not just legends and fairytales. Oh - I personally remember the elves of course, from back in the old days, an amazing specie. But who would believe me? I'd have to prove I'm an Istari first of all – which is nearly impossible, since very few today really know what an Istari is. The only way to substantiate that would be measuring certain genetic differences in the DNA. Besides, I'm not really interested in doing that. Not with the way the world looks today, I'd be thrown into a lab and poked both here and there. No thanks," he ended drily.

"What were they like?" Narheda asked.  
"Who, the elves?"  
"Exactly."  
"And what happened to them?" Luwan added.

"There used to be millions of them, living in a crescent surrounding the human lands, and intermingling with humans now and then, for trade and for cultural exchange," Mitikas began. "But it all ended back in the 25th century, with the Two Plagues. Those two maladies took almost 80 percent of the elves. The percentages who survived did so because they had enough human genes within them to provide them with an immune defense against mutated viruses like the ones causing the plagues. Half-bloods of various kinds. Almost all the pure blooded elves died. That was the start of the demise of the specie, although it took a bit more than another 400 years before they were completely gone. Either extinct or assimilated into humanity."

"How sad," Narheda said and glanced down at her hands.  
"That's the course of the nature," Luwan replied. "The survival of the fittest. The Elves, I imagine died because of being less adaptable to mutating viruses."  
"I remember when I was little," Narheda said, looking up again and facing the Harnendorite. "My grandmother read me a fairytale of the Elves, how they had built a huge, golden rocket and taken off in the space. Found themselves another home at some planet far away from the Middle Earth."

"Yes, people love to make up similar stories," Mitikas said. "Makes it a bit easier to cope with reality than facing the fact that a presumed lost race became extinct. Especially a sentient one, like the Elves. Back in the old days, people made up stories that the Elves had sailed across the ocean to the islands in the west to dwell there. Similar to your rocket story, Narheda. Whereas other simply blamed our kind for the disappearance of the elves, told that we could have saved them if we had kept our viruses to usselves – however that should've been impossible, since you cannot stop people from traveling and interacting."

"We have a story too, where I come from," Luwan said and smirked. "And that's if you have pointy ears, you're descended from the Elves." To hit home his point he slid the hands out of the pockets and mockingly pulled at the edges of his own, very round ears.  
"Oh my!" Narheda almost started to titter, as the very idea made her think of her friend Arenti. That girl sure had the pointiest of ears; they looked like they could slice through hats. Arenti had always said she hated them, and talked about operating them, but never gotten around.  
"Now, that is true more or less," Mitikas confirmed. "However it's a rare trait since it's genetically non-dominant and the carriers of the gene which alters the orb of the ear are few and far between. So I guess most people believe it's just another rare fluke. Thus the memory of the pointy-eared elves has faded into a legend. Then again, not all elves had those ears. Most of them did, perhaps 70 or 80 percent, but far from everyone."

"What other differences were there?" Narheda wanted to know. "I mean could you tell an Elf from a human just by looking at it?"  
"Most of the time you could," Mitikas said. "Elves tended to be taller, often around 7 to 8 feet for women and 7.5 to 8.5 for men. They were also more slender in stature, since they had a generally thinner but denser bone structure and lesser bodily fat, then almost all of them were fair skinned and their hair colours ranged from platinum blond to dark brown. No redheads. And the men lacked facial hair. The women had smaller, flatter breasts. All in all, the general elf look was a bit more androgynous than the human, due to a lesser variation between the genders."

"Oh," he then cut himself off as he looked up. "We're almost here now." Sure thing, they were rapidly nearing the landing on the Eastern riverside. At that moment Narheda became anxious, what if the bad guys had intercepted them and were waiting for them at the quay? Then she realized there was not a chance to accomplish such a thing. The quickest way to make it across the Anduin using the land way would be to drive up to the Dúnedan Bridge, cross it and then down here, which took way more than twenty minutes. Besides, this time of day, there were always traffic jams and queues around that area, so if their foes tried such a thing, they could if possibly have made it up on the bridge by now and would be sitting there in a queue cursing at the bumper of the vehicle in front of them. She almost laughed at the thought.

Not to mention that the police had probably been the ones to drag that bitch Sarigiana out of the water, and their appearance on the scene would definitely have halted the bad guys quite a bit from acquiring anything of consequence.

"Can we still make it to the Speaker's Corner?" Luwan asked.  
"Yes, that should be possible," Mitikas said and glanced at his neckwatch. "Two more hours until it airs, and the drive up there takes one of them the longest."


End file.
